


One Dream Away From The Ones Above

by chchchchcherrybomb, vinegar-and-glitter (vinegarandglitter)



Series: In the In-Between [3]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Realities, Angst with a Happy Ending, Appendicitis, Character, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Weed Macarons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegar-and-glitter
Summary: Maybe Connor woke up the day after his 27th birthday to find things aren’t as they should be. Or maybe Connor has appendicitis, a high fever and is on a lot of pain medication. When reality has a tendency to get strange, how can you really tell?ITIB-Verse, post “It’s Always Been You”.





	1. ONE

“You look like shit, boss.”

 

“Thanks,” Connor replies wearily as he comes out of the staff kitchen, having just finished his lunch break. He feels… off. He’d managed to eat about three bites of a deli sandwich for lunch, but his stomach hurts and he just feels gross. 

 

Connor is also, like, ridiculously cold, even though it’s the beginning of summer. Jax is wearing shorts but Connor is seriously considering going upstairs to get a hoodie because he’s shivering a little. 

 

Air conditioning must be playing up. 

 

“Just being straight with you,” Jax says, their eyebrows knitting together in concern. “You sure you should be here?”

 

“Well, I live upstairs,” Connor points out. “And I own the building. So, yes.”

 

“Pretty sure you’ve got the flu, dude.”

 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure it’s not flu season, Jax.” It doesn’t feel like the flu. Not really. He just feels… off. “Maybe that sushi Maureen brought in yesterday was bad.”

 

Jax frowns even more. “She seemed fine when I saw her this morning.”

 

Connor blinks. “Wait, you saw her this morning?”

 

Jax shrugs, going slightly pink. “Well, yeah, we have breakfast on Tuesdays,” they say, their cheeks flushed. “It’s, like, a thing we just do.”

 

“Breakfast date, huh?” Connor says, feeling his lips quirk in amusement. “Nice.”

 

Jax goes even pinker, and mumbles something about it not being like that, but it seems to distract them from continuing to give Connor a hard time. Connor takes a steadying breath, then goes to restock the travel section, as it needs replenishing after a very enthusiastic couple cleaned them out this morning, getting supplies for an upcoming trip to Europe. 

 

It takes longer than it should. Connor’s stomach is killing him, and he feels dizzy, and Edgar Allan Paw is rubbing against his ankles and meowing loudly. Every time Connor bends, there’s a sharp wave of pain, and when he tries to get to floor level to comfort his clearly distressed cat, it just gets worse. 

 

“Okay,” a voice says from behind him, sounding seriously concerned. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Go to bed.”

 

“Jax, I’m fine,” Connor starts to say, before feeling a wave of nausea hit him. 

 

He barely makes it to the bathroom before puking violently, Edgar hot on his heels. 

 

Okay. Maybe he isn’t well. 

 

Connor just... doesn’t have time for this right now. He’s got a bunch of events planned for the store, including open mics and weekend author meet and greets, and while it’s not as crazy as it was last year where he worked for three weeks without having a weekend off, it’s still pretty busy. Getting sick is just not on the agenda. Not when there’s so much coming up. 

 

Not just the store, either. Evan’s standing up for Charles and Asher’s wedding, and Sabrina and Graham are getting married in August, and apparently, there’s someone else who’s getting married at Evan’s work, so their weekends are set to get pretty busy. And Evan’s working a pretty intense case about fishing waste with his boss at the moment which has been keeping him at the office later than usual, which has resulted in him crashing at Connor’s more often than not, just because it’s a little closer than his apartment. 

 

It’s obviously nice to have Evan around, but they’re not exactly getting quality time together - most evenings are spent with them both hard at work on their laptops until they finally decide it’s time they got some sleep. 

 

Well, mostly Connor decides that it’s time they got some sleep. 

 

Getting sick is completely unfair and absolutely not what Connor needs right now. And if he gets sick, then Evan’s going to have to keep his distance so  _ he _ doesn’t get sick with this big case which he’s currently in court for, which means Connor won’t see him as much, and that’ll suck and make him cranky. 

 

But he has just spent the last five minutes puking and his stomach hurts, so…

 

“Do you believe me now?” Jax asks, looking a little alarmed. They hand Connor a glass of water, which he takes gratefully, hands shaking. “I think you need to go to bed.”

 

“Yeah,” says Connor, his voice shaking as well. “I’ll, uh… let me just finish restocking the travel section-”

 

“I got it,” Jax interrupts, frowning deeply now. “Seriously, dude. I’m texting your boyfriend and letting him know how sick you are.”

 

Connor hasn’t got the energy to argue, so heads upstairs, Edgar following him closely, meowing the whole way. He barely manages to get into his bedroom before he’s hit with another wave of pain in his stomach which leaves him literally doubled over, and he has to pretty much crawl into bed, kicking off his shoes wearily and pulling the covers over him as tightly as he can, trying to stay warm. 

 

His head hurts and he’s cold and he feels damp and gross and disgusting and there’s a pain in his stomach, a pain that keeps rolling through him like waves, and it hurts it hurts it hurts - 

 

Connor wakes up to the sound of snoring and someone’s arms around his waist. The sun’s shining right in his face, and he turns to see Margot spooning him. 

 

Eddie’s not wearing any pants. 

 

The frame of his diploma is broken and covered with the remnants of white powder and

 

What. 

 

What. 

 

Connor pulls himself away from Margot’s grip, looks around the room and frowns. He doesn’t… he doesn’t think he’s where he’s supposed to be. 

 

He doesn’t…

 

He’s in the kitchen of Andi’s apartment and she’s making pancakes, rapping to Nicki Minaj, and she’s in a green bathrobe and someone’s handing him a cup of coffee. 

 

“Drink this.”

 

Connor looks at Zoe, in a sensible blazer, dark circles under her eyes, face devoid of makeup, looking annoyed. 

 

“What?”

 

“Jesus fuck, Connor, what the hell were you on last night?”

 

Connor blinks. “I’m… I’m not supposed to be here,” he tries to explain, because something is wrong, something isn’t… this is familiar, but it’s not, but he’s not supposed to be here, and Zoe needs to know. 

 

Zoe sighs in frustration. “It was your birthday party last night, remember?” she says, sounding more and more irritated. “You ran off to get high with your friends instead of actually talking to anyone.”

 

“I made garlic bread,” Andi says, her voice matter-of-fact. 

 

Zoe narrows her eyes and looks more and more annoyed, her face hard, and it’s… not what it’s supposed to be, because Zoe is usually pleased to see him now, isn’t she? They’re… it’s not… but Zoe’s not usually here. 

 

“Why… why are you here?” Connor asks Zoe, because… 

 

He doesn’t know where here is, or what here is, or… 

 

Something is wrong. 

 

Something is wrong something is wrong. 

 

His stomach hurts. 

 

Andi and Zoe exchange a look and Zoe goes pink. “Not your problem,” snaps Zoe. “I was just leaving anyway.”

 

“What about breakfast?” asks Andi, looking disappointed, pouting a little at Zoe. 

 

“Not hungry,” Zoe mumbles, pulling out her phone from her pocket. She sighs. “Fuck. I’m going to be late, fuck.”

 

She heads out the front door of Connor’s apartment. 

 

Andi’s apartment. 

 

Connor’s old apartment. 

 

He doesn’t live there anymore. 

 

He doesn’t… does he? 

 

Where does he…

 

“Connor. Connor, hey, you… fuck, you’re burning up. Jax said you were puking, that you… okay, tell me where it hurts. Okay. Fuck, okay. Okay, just… I just need to make a quick call, okay? I... no, I’ll stay right here, okay? I’ll stay with you. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I love you, I love you so much.”

 

Evan. 

 

Where’s Evan?

 

He needs to find Evan, where’s Evan? He…

 

Connor looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

 

The room feels emptier than usual. Like any sound would echo uncomfortably, making everything too loud, too much. Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes to his contacts. He has to call Evan, make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s...

 

No Evan. 

 

That’s not… that’s not right. 

 

No Evan, he doesn’t have Evan’s number, he doesn’t  _ remember _ his number, he…

 

“Focus,” he mutters to himself. “Focus, Connor, you…”

 

Everything feels hazy, he feels sluggish and unreal, like he’s looking at the world through a dirty window, and everything is fuzzy and weird and…

 

He goes to the App Store and reinstalls Facebook. It takes a moment, but soon he’s entering in a half-remembered password and he’s in, looking at his profile picture and frowning. 

 

On instinct, he goes to the search bar and looks for Evan Hansen. 

 

He has to find Evan. 

 

He’s…

 

This is familiar, Connor knows this he knows this, he’s back at his 27th birthday, okay, except it’s the day after his birthday, not the day of his birthday, and he hasn’t died, he hasn’t died, he…

 

He has to find Evan, if he finds Evan then it’ll be okay. 

 

It’ll be okay. 

 

The page refreshes. Connor’s blood runs cold as he looks at the search results. There’s Evan’s face, smiling and confident on his profile, and underneath there are comments he’s been tagged in.

 

Comments that...

 

_ Just heard the news about  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _ , so sad. RIP.  _

 

_ I didn’t really know  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _ , but we went to high school together and I remember he was nice. RIP.  _

 

_ RIP,  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _.  _

 

_ So sorry to hear about  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _. So sad.  _

  
  


No. 

 

No, no, no, no, no. 

 

Not… no. Just… no.

 

“This isn’t real. This can’t be real.”

 

Connor’s heart is pounding fast fast fast, so fast it’s all he can hear, this roaring of blood in his ears, and he can’t breathe he can’t breathe is he dying he might be dying oh god oh god oh god he wasn’t there he wasn’t there and Evan’s  _ gone _ he wasn’t there he wasn’t there he wasn’t there -

 

“Connor, Connor, you need to breathe. Breathe with me, come on, just breathe with me. You… fuck. Okay, shit, you’re… please just… come on, Connor, please just breathe. In and out, with me, come on. I’ve got you, I love you so much, just… just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

 

“This isn’t real,” Connor repeats to himself, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

 

He blinks. 

 

He’s looking at Evan’s face hovering over him, pale and tight with concern, talking to him softly. Edgar Allan Paw is meowing loudly, sitting by his shoulder, and he’s freezing cold, despite the blankets piled on him. 

 

He reaches out and grabs Evan’s hand, trying to hold on to him. To keep him here. “You’re alive.”

 

Evan’s eyes widen. “I’m alive,” he repeats, like he’s trying to make sense of what Connor’s saying, like he doesn’t understand. 

 

“You were dead,” Connor tries to explain, his voice shaking, his hands shaking, all of him just shaking. “I… Facebook said you were  _ dead.” _

 

Evan blinks. Frowns. “You hate Facebook.”

 

Connor’s hit with another wave of sharp sharp sharp pain and he can’t help it, he lets out a yell. It hurts it hurts it hurts like being hit by a bus like coughing up a razor blade it just hurts it hurts it hurts -

 

“Okay,” Evan says, his voice even. “Connor, I think you have appendicitis. Can you show me again where it hurts?” Connor gestures to his abdomen and Evan’s face shifts into one of grim determination. “I’m calling an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.”

 

Connor is looking at his phone. 

 

There’s message after message after message on Facebook and Connor can’t stop looking at them. 

 

_ RIP  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _ #gonetoosoon _

 

_ RIP,  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _.  _

 

_ Thinking about  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _ today after the awful news. RIP.  _

 

_ So sad to hear about the loss of  _ **_Evan Hansen_ ** _. A great guy.  _

 

They’re awful and impersonal and  _ wrong _ and don’t say anything about Evan because these people didn’t know Evan, they didn’t  _ know _ him they didn’t know no one knew him, not even Connor Connor didn’t know him then but he let him jump. 

 

Connor makes it down the stairs of his apartment building, wrapped up in a winter jacket, a hat and a scarf. Everything’s buzzing, like he’s a tuning fork that someone’s just whacked against a wall. Time is moving strangely, the wind is bitterly cold and he walks past an open manhole but doesn’t fall in. 

 

A potted plant falls from a window, right in front of him and crashes to the ground. Soil spills out onto the pavement. Soil and blood and expensive whisky, soaking the concrete, running off the sidewalk onto the road. 

 

People just keep walking past, not paying any attention to him. 

 

Like he’s a ghost. 

 

A bus with Alana Beck’s face drives past. 

 

_ ALANA BECK FOR MAYOR  _

 

That’s not… 

 

It’s not right, Alana’s not running for mayor, she’s running for city council. 

 

Community board. 

 

Connor can hear someone talking, can hear someone talking to him, asking questions, but he doesn’t…

 

He can’t...

 

He buzzes up to Evan’s apartment.

 

Hits the buzzer again. 

 

And again. 

 

And again. 

 

No one answers. 

 

The wind is sharp, each gust a piercing blow, pushing right through him, wearing away at his defences, and he’s so cold he’s so so fucking cold -

 

There’s a flash of red and blue against the door of Evan’s apartment building and then the door opens, and there’s Mr. Abrahamson, his face pale and a deep, deep frown on his face. The old man looks sad, deeply sad, and Connor knows he knows Mr. Abrahamson knows he knows that Evan’s gone. 

 

Evan’s  _ gone,  _ fuck,  _ fuck _ , this is wrong, it’s all wrong, Connor was supposed to be there and he wasn’t. 

 

Mr. Abrahamson looks so sad. He looks straight at Connor, like he recognizes him. 

 

“Alav ha-shalom.” 

 

Connor doesn’t know what that means. 

 

He doesn’t know what that means he doesn’t know he -

 

“Hey.” 

 

There’s a hand smoothing his hair back and he can hear beeping and he’s not really sure what’s going on, but he thinks he sees Evan. 

 

He thinks he sees…

 

“Evan.” His boyfriend is looking right at him, face dangerously pale, almost gray. “Are you… are you really here?”

 

“Yeah,” says Evan, his voice rough but tinged with relief. “Are you?”

 

“I don’t know,” Connor admits, feeling his eyes well up with tears. “I… I was… you were…” He closes his eyes tightly. Opens them again. 

 

Evan’s still there. 

 

“Alav ha-shalom,” Connor says, remembering, or trying to. Evan’s eyes widen in alarm. “What does it mean?”

 

Evan’s face is tight with concern, with fear. “Where did you-”

 

Connor has to know. “What does it  _ mean,  _ Evan?”

 

“Peace be upon him,” says another voice. A voice Connor knows. 

 

He turns around to see Heidi Hansen standing in what looks like a cemetery, except that it’s… different, a little. It’s unfamiliar, he hasn’t seen it before, it’s…

 

Heidi looks exhausted. Drained. Like all the life has been sucked out of her. 

 

“Did you know him?” she asks, her voice urgent. “Did you know Evan?”

 

“I love him,” Connor says, the words spilling out automatically. “I… I love him. I couldn’t… I couldn’t save him, Heidi, I’m so sorry I couldn’t save him, I…”

 

“It isn’t your fault.”

 

“It is,” Connor tries to explain. “It is, because I wasn’t there, I wasn’t… I wasn’t there, I should have…”

 

He takes a deep breath. 

 

He is in a room he doesn’t recognize. It takes him a moment to place, a moment to figure out what’s going on, but as he looks around he realizes that he’s in a synagogue. There are people gathered, faces that he recognizes as people he’s seen in passing from his hometown. 

 

Heidi is across the room, standing with a man Connor’s only ever seen in photos, photos Connor’s only ever seen in passing because Evan doesn’t…

 

Evan doesn’t exactly put photos of his dad on display. 

 

There’s a little girl there, too, and another woman, and…

 

Connor looks around again and realizes where he is. 

 

He feels sick he feels sick oh god oh god oh god -

 

Everyone is standing and reciting what must be a prayer, in what must be Hebrew, and Connor doesn’t know what they’re saying but he knows why, he knows what’s happening.    
  
_ “Al molay rachamim, shochayn bam’romim, ham-tzay m’nucha n’chona al kanfay Hash’china, b’ma-alot k’doshim ut-horim k’zo-har haraki-a mazhirim, et nishmat Evan she-halach l-olama, ba-avur shenodvu tz’dakah b’ad hazkarat nishmata.” _

 

He’s at Evan’s funeral. 

 

Oh god oh god oh god  _ he’s at Evan’s funeral.  _

 

There are so few people in attendance, so fucking few, and among the faces Connor only kind of recognizes he sees Jared Kleinman, who turns his head and looks his way, his eyes widening in surprise and recognition. 

 

Jared is starting to go bald, Connor notices. 

 

The group continue the prayer. 

 

_ “B’Gan Ayden t’hay m’nuchata; la-chayn Ba-al Harachamim yas-tire-ha b’sayter k’nafav l’olamim, v’yitz-ror bitz-ror hacha-yim et nishmatah, Ado-nay Hu na-chalatah, v’tanu-ach b’shalom al mishkavah. V’nomar: Amayn.” _

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“Connor. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Connor shakes his head. It hurts it hurts it hurts. 

 

Someone is holding his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

 

“I’m so, so sorry-”

 

“Connor. Connor, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He looks up to see Evan sitting next to him, face pale, and it’s bright and there are noises he can’t recognize and his arm feels weird. Everything feels… heavy. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking straight at Evan. “I… I didn’t… I…”

 

“You’re sick,” Evan says, his voice shaky but firm. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Connor, this isn’t your fault.”

 

“No,” he tries to explain, “but it is, it  _ is _ my fault, it’s  _ my fault,  _ I didn’t stop you I wasn’t  _ there,  _ I wasn’t-”

 

He’s in Evan’s room. 

 

Evan’s room, except that it’s wrong, and it’s empty, and Evan’s not in it. Heidi is packing up boxes of books in silence, her hands shaking.

 

It’s so fucking quiet. 

 

She goes over to the bed and starts to fold up the blanket. Connor rushes to help her and she looks at him, blinking slowly like she’s not sure if he’s really here. 

 

He’s not sure if he’s really here, either. 

 

“I saw you at the funeral,” says Heidi, her eyes welling up with tears. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”

 

“I love him,” Connor says simply. “I love him more than anything.”

 

Heidi nods. Sniffs. 

 

They fold up the blanket in silence for a while. 

 

“How… how did you know him?” Heidi asks finally. 

 

“We went to high school together,” Connor tries to explain, “but that’s not what… we found each other again, here in the city, except that… it’s not… it wasn’t supposed to go like this. It’s not… this is  _ not _ how it’s supposed to go.”

 

Heidi’s eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m in the wrong universe,” he tells her, desperate to make her understand. To… fuck, he doesn’t know, maybe give her some kind of hope.  “I… I don’t belong in this universe, this is the one where I… this is the one where he jumped.” Heidi’s eyes widen in alarm. “I need to get back to the one where I saved him. The one where we… the one where I saved him and we fell in love and we… I need to get  _ back _ to him.”

 

Heidi blinks. “You saved him?” she asks, her voice raw.

 

Connor nods. “I did. And he saved me. He…”

 

Connor’s somewhere else. From across the cemetery, he can see a figure in a bright yellow coat, standing in front of a grave. 

 

He’s cold. He’s so fucking cold. 

 

Connor looks at his hand and it’s… 

 

It’s there, then it’s not, then it’s back again, and…

 

“I’m so fucking mad at you.”

 

Sabrina’s not talking to him, Connor realizes. She’s talking to Evan’s grave, her voice shaking, her hands curled into fists. 

 

“Evan, I am so fucking mad at you, I… what the  _ fuck,  _ why would you… you’re so fucking stupid, why would you… I’m so sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, Ev, Evan, I… fuck, I should have… I didn’t know what to do, Evan, I didn’t know how to help, I… I am so sorry, Ev, I never stopped caring about you, I… fuck, I love you so much. I’m so sorry. I miss you. You are such a fucking  _ asshole, _ I miss you so fucking much, you… I hate this, I hate this, I fucking hate this, I hate it so fucking much, I…” 

 

Graham puts his arm around Sabrina and she buries her face in his coat as her body shakes with sobs. Graham stands there and looks at Evan’s grave as he holds his fiancee, his expression concerned and conflicted. 

 

Connor looks at his hand. 

 

It’s shaking. 

 

He opens his eyes to see Zoe sitting in a chair next to Evan, whose eyes are closed, head against Zoe’s shoulder. Zoe sees him looking at her and starts, leaning in closer, and Evan’s eyes snap open, almost violently. Connor can feel himself tearing up. 

 

Evan’s opened his eyes. He’s opened his eyes and he’s here, he’s  _ here, _ and so is Connor, he’s alive, oh god oh god Evan’s alive please be alive -

 

“Hey,” says Zoe gently, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. She’s wearing a nice blazer, like she’s come straight from work, and she’s got dark circles under her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Weird,” Connor says, or tries to say. He’s not sure if he’s getting the words out right. He feels… sluggish. Slow. Like he’s trying to move through molasses. 

 

He doesn’t know what time it is, or how much time has passed, or if he’s even really here. 

 

Nothing feels real. 

 

He doesn’t know if this is real, but he might not care because  _ Evan’s alive. _

 

“Yeah, well, you’re on some pretty heavy pain medication,” says Zoe, clearly trying for a light tone. “They’re just trying to keep you comfortable until the surgery.”

 

“When?” Connor asks, or tries to ask. Tries to focus, tries to tether himself to reality, to the hospital bed he’s in, even though he can’t remember how this started, he can’t remember what happened, he doesn’t know how he got here. 

 

“Soon,” Evan assures him, reaching out and grabbing his hand. 

 

Connor is terrified that his grip will go right through. 

 

Evan looks exhausted and his face is so so pale and he’s frowning and Connor wants to reach out and touch him, to make him feel better, but he can’t move properly, he can’t do anything, he can’t help, he...

 

“I love you,” Connor desperately tries to say, even though his mouth won’t cooperate. “I’m not… I want to stay, Evan, I want to stay with you, I can’t… I don’t… please stay, please let me stay.”

 

Evan looks terrified and devastated and confused and squeezes his hand even tighter. “No one is going anywhere,” he says, his voice firm. “We’re okay, it’s going to be okay, you’re just… you’re sick, but you’re going to feel a lot better soon.”

 

Connor tries to stay. 

 

He tries  _ so hard _ to stay. 

 

He tries to stay in the hospital, with Evan, with Zoe, not to slip back into the reality where Evan’s dead, Evan’s  _ dead _ and Connor did nothing and -

 

“This apartment is cursed.”

 

The lights in the kitchen of Evan’s apartment are bright. Too bright. Mattie and Alex stand in the kitchen, clutching cups of coffee, both in scrubs, looking absolutely exhausted. 

 

“Maybe,” Mattie says, her voice weary. “I… fuck.”

 

“First Charlie,” Alex continues, her voice shaky. “And now Evan. We…” She lets out a laugh completely devoid of humor. “Fuck, we can’t put up another Craigslist ad, Mattie, we can’t… I can’t handle a third, I just can’t.”

 

“We could let the room out on Air BnB,” Mattie suggests, frowning deeply. She sighs. “We… fuck. I don’t like it any more than you do, but we have to do something.”

 

“We didn’t see it coming with Charlie,” Alex says, her voice even shakier now, looking dangerously close to tears. Connor doesn’t know if the tears are from anger or sadness or both. “And we didn’t see it coming with Evan. But both of them… we should have. We fucking should have.”

 

“Alex, we can’t-”

 

“The whole fucking point of being a doctor was to help people! We go to work and we help strangers but we can’t even take care of the people who are close to us. We can’t even keep our fucking roommate… fuck. Fuck!”

 

Mattie pulls Alex into a hug and Alex bursts into hot, angry tears, and Mattie’s crying as well, and Connor hates it, he hates it, he wants to stop this he wants out he wants to be out of here he wants to be home he wants to be with Evan, with  _ his _ Evan, he can’t he can’t he…

 

He’s on the roof of Evan’s apartment building. 

 

Oh god.

 

Oh no oh no no no no no -

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” says Evan, looking tired and worn and hopeless. “You can’t be here. You’re not… you’re not really here.”

 

Connor reaches out to grab Evan’s arm, acting entirely on instinct. He has to stop this. He has to stop this now. 

 

His hand goes right through Evan’s arm. 

 

Evan watches, his expression never changing. He laughs a little, and it echoes out in the night. “See? I was right. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

 

Connor feels cold, cold all the way through him. “No,” Connor says urgently. “No, I’m not, I… I’m real, I’m here, I’m not going to let you jump.” He reaches out to grab Evan’s arm again, but once again his hand goes through. 

 

He tries again. 

 

And again. 

 

And again. 

 

He can’t… he can’t touch him. He can’t touch Evan. 

 

He can’t reach him. 

 

He can’t stop him. 

 

Oh god oh god oh god no no no no no -

 

“Please,” Connor begs, positioning himself between Evan and the edge of the roof. “Please don’t do this, Evan, I can’t… I can’t let you do this.” He blinks away the tears the best he can. “I  _ love _ you.”

 

Evan just looks at him with those same dull, hopeless eyes. “You don’t love me.”

 

Fuck. Fuck, that hurts, that stings, that cuts right through him. Connor shakes his head. “But I do. I do,  _ fuck, _ Evan, I love you more than anything, please don’t do this-”

 

Evan is still staring, an expression on his face that would be curiosity if it wasn’t so fucking… dull. Blank.  _ Dead.  _ “I don’t even know you.”

 

Connor reaches out again, and he wants to scream in frustration as his hand goes through. Evan watches his hand go through again, then looks back at Connor’s face, the expression never changing. 

 

He just looks… done. Like he’s not even here. Like there’s a pane of glass separating him from the rest of the world. 

 

From Connor. 

 

The coldness spreads through him, making him shiver, and Connor realizes that he can’t stop him. He can’t physically stop Evan from jumping. All he has are his words, and they might not be enough this time. 

 

“You  _ do _ know me,” Connor insists, desperate to make him understand. “You… we went to high school together. You wrote a letter and it… it meant something to me, it made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like I wasn’t the only one who felt like this, and I never forgot, not really… I just… tried not to think about it for years and years and years and then we met again. We met again and it changed everything. It changed my life, Evan -  _ you _ changed my life and I am so  _ fucking in love with you  _ and I can’t let you jump.”

 

“You keep saying that,” Evan says, his voice weary. “But you can’t stop me. You… you’re in my mind, you’re in my imagination, you can’t… you’re not real, it’s so obvious that you’re not real, and if you’re not real that means that I’ve finally lost it, like I always knew I would. I’ve lost touch with reality, I’ve… I’ve always known it would end like this. It was always going to end like this, it was always going to be like this. I am  _ always _ going to be like this.”

 

“You’re not,” Connor pleads, taking a step closer to Evan. “You’re not always going to be like this, it is going to get better. I  _ swear _ that it is going to get better, you just have to trust me, you have to trust me that it’s going to get better, it’s going to get better and I won’t… you’re not alone, Evan, you’re not alone and  _ I won’t let you be alone, _ I won’t, I won’t, I can’t let you-”

 

The wind rages on around them. 

 

Evan straightens his shoulders. 

 

He walks right through Connor and off the edge of the building. 

 

Connor doesn’t hesitate. 

 

He follows Evan, stepping off the building after him. 

 

As he falls, Connor stretches out his hand, desperate to reach Evan, despite failing so many times before. If he could just touch him, if he could just fucking  _ touch _ him, maybe it would all end differently. 

 

The lights of the city are a blur and the wind feels like a thousand tiny knives as they both keep falling, falling, falling…

 

Connor opens his eyes. It’s too bright, too, too bright, and his head feels fuzzy and he blinks and there is someone holding his hand. 

 

Holding his hand, like it’s solid. 

 

His hand is solid. 

 

He squeezes as hard as he can, which isn’t that hard because he’s utterly drained. 

 

Connor looks over to see Evan sitting there, a look of relief on his face. He’s pale, but he’s not as pale as he was on the roof, and his eyes are full of fear but it’s better than them being blank, dead, hopeless. 

 

And he’s holding his hand, which means he must be real.  _ This _ must be real. 

 

God, Connor hopes this is real. 

 

“Hey,” says Evan, his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

 

“I… fuzzy,” he manages to say. 

 

“Makes sense,” Evan tells him, smiling a little. “You’re pretty drugged up. They say the surgery went well, but your appendix was pretty fucking close to bursting.” He leans in and kisses Connor on the cheek. “How come you didn’t tell me you were feeling so bad?”

 

“I… didn’t realize,” Connor says, fighting to make his words clear. “Just thought… tired. Lots on.” He tries to smile. “High pain tolerance.” 

 

“Yeah,” says Evan, his smile fading. He kisses Connor again. “You… I’m just glad you’re okay. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

 

Connor wants to explain but he doesn’t want to frighten Evan, and he doesn’t know how to explain it. 

 

It could have just been the fever, just a dream, just a hallucination. 

 

Or he could have been… somewhere else, like he and Evan were over two years ago. Somewhere unreal, somewhere in the in-between, a completely different reality where Connor was too late, he was too late, he couldn’t save him because he didn’t know, he didn’t… he wasn’t there...

 

“I love you,” Connor says, as clearly as he can, because he has to let Evan know. Evan has to know this, Connor can’t stand another second of not saying it. Evan smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He still looks so scared, and Connor hates it, he hates it so fucking much, but at least he’s alive. 

 

At least Evan is  _ alive.  _

 

“I love you, too.” Evan brushes his hair off his face and Connor feels like crying at the contact, crying in relief at the way Evan’s hand stops at his face, it doesn’t go through, because he’s here, he’s here, they’re both here, and maybe this time he can stay. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here. I’m staying here.”

 

Connor wants to stay but he feels himself drifting, except this time he’s not drifting somewhere else, he’s just… drifting. He feels himself drifting for what feels like a long time. 

 

The next time Connor opens his eyes, Evan is there. 

 

And the next. 

 

And the next. 

 

And the next. 


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s easier, not to be alone. Expecting the worst because human brains are stupidly wired to expect the worst.”  
> “Yeah. Fuck being human.”  
> “Amen, dude.”

When Evan got the text from Jax saying Connor was sick and throwing up, he was just heading back into the courtroom after a short recess. He texted them back to say he’d absolutely stop in as soon as he could get away from work and thanked them for letting him know. He asked them to check in on Connor in a couple of hours if Evan wasn’t there yet, then switched his phone to airplane mode and focused back in on the case at hand.

Evan had no idea what he would walk in to see when he got to Connor’s place. Edgar was yowling his little head off when Evan opened the door before he raced back to Connor’s room, and Evan hurried after him, his heart rate ticking faster. He pushed the door to Connor’s bedroom open and immediately felt a horrible swooping in his stomach. Connor’s eyes were closed tightly, like he was in pain, and Evan could see sweat collecting on Connor’s forehead, he could see how pale and sickly he looked.  

Evan reached out, his hand pushing some of Connor’s hair out of his face before placing a hand on his forehead. It was hot to the touch. Fuck, Connor was burning up. He muttered something unintelligible in his sleep, his head turning to the side slightly, his eyes closing tighter. “Connor. Connor, hey, you… fuck, you’re burning up,” Evan said gently. 

Connor’s eyes fluttered open for just a second, but it was like he wasn’t there, he just looked at Evan like he didn’t see him and  _ fuck.  _

“Jax said you were puking, that you -”

“Hurts,” Connor mumbled his eyes closing, tightly, his mouth set in a grimace.

“Okay, tell me where it hurts,” Evan said, trying to be reassuring and helpful and trying and failing to swallow down the panic rising inside of him. 

Connor’s hand gestured vaguely toward his stomach, his eyes still screwed closed and Evan hated this he hated it, he hated it so much. 

“Okay. Fuck, okay. Okay, just… I just need to make a quick call, okay?”

“Don’t go,” Connor gasped, his hand grabbing onto Evan’s wrist suddenly, his grip uncharacteristically loose and breakable.

“I... no, I’ll stay right here, okay? I’ll stay with you. You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. I love you, I love you so much.” Evan pressed a kiss to Connor’s forehead, too warm under his lips, and Connor’s face relaxed a little. He used his hand that wasn’t holding Connor’s to fumble for his phone and with shaking fingers he called his mom. 

This was bad this was serious this wasn’t just the stomach flu or maybe bad sushi this was very fucking bad. Connor was hurt he was in pain he was  _ in pain. _ .. His mom had been a CNA for years and years and if she thought it was actually bad, then he’d know because she’d know, she’d know. 

His mom answered on the first ring. “Hi sweetheart,” She said, her voice bright and happy. 

“Mom… I need help. Something’s wrong with Connor,” Evan said, trying to keep it together, trying not to totally lose it as Connor whimpered in his sleep, his forehead wrinkling in pain, his eyes closed tight tight tight. “He’s… he’s running a high fever and his coworker Jax said he threw up earlier. He’s sort of out of it and he says his stomach hurts. I… this seems bad.”

“Is he in a lot of pain?” His mom asked, her voice calm, steady, professional. 

“Yeah, I think he is,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “He’s not really… he’s not really totally awake. He’s sort of just in and out. I didn’t know it was this bad… I should have been here but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“That’s okay baby, you’re okay. Try and get Connor talking if you can,” His mom said. 

He tried to gently wake Connor, but he just whimpered and closed his eyes tighter and tighter. Evan tried again, getting nothing but a shiver in response and said, “Mom, he’s not waking up.”

“He’s probably just running a high fever,” She said reasonably. “You said he’s in pain, right?”

“Yeah… Yeah he definitely is. He said it was his stomach?”

“If the pain is on his lower right side, it might be appendicitis. If you think it is, call 911 okay? It’s usually just a minimally invasive procedure to treat, unless the appendix bursts, but you’ll have to get him to a hospital.” 

“Okay,” Evan said softly. “I think that’s where it was. I’ll call an ambulance. Okay.”

“You can do this sweetheart.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Call me back as soon as you can, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Evan hung up with his mother and as he did, Connor’s face twisted once more in pain, and his breathing became more and more labored. Evan gently shook him, trying to wake him up, to talk to him, but Connor’s eyes stayed tightly closed, his body curling in on itself a little as he kept breathing raggedly. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“Connor, Connor, you need to breathe,” Evan said, shaking him harder, how could he be hyperventilating and asleep god damn it what was going on? He shook him again, still trying hard to be gentle because Connor was obviously in pain, and Connor’s eyes snapped open but his breathing did not even out at all. 

Evan looked at him, his grip on Connor’s hand tighter. 

“Breathe with me, come on, just breathe with me. You… fuck. Okay, shit, you’re… please just… come on, Connor, please just breathe,” Evan said, knowing how panicked he must sound, how his own breathing was starting to speed up with his fear. “In and out, with me, come on,” Evan said, and his voice started to go ragged, to fray and tear with each second Connor didn’t open his eyes. “I’ve got you, I love you so much, just… just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”

“This isn’t real,” Connor mumbled, his head turned slightly to the side.

But then he blinked a few times. His breathing slowly evened out a little. 

Evan kept talking, telling Connor he was doing well, he was going to be okay, that Evan loved him he loved him he loved him. Edgar was sitting near Connor’s shoulder, meowing louder and louder at Evan as if he was pleading with Evan to do something already and fuck he was paralyzed he was terrified. 

Connor shivered. 

It was fucking June and almost ninety degrees outside and warm in this apartment but Connor was shivering under several blankets. This was bad this was so bad fuck fuck 

Connor grabbed Evan’s hand suddenly, still shaky, “You’re alive.”

Evan’s eyes popped wide, and something grabbed cold in his stomach. “I’m alive,” he said, uncertainly, squeezing Connor’s clammy hand gently. 

“You were dead,” Connor said, his voice raspy and paper thin and wrecked. He was shivering hard, shaking under Evan’s touch and his eyes were unfocused and glassy. “I… Facebook said you were  _ dead.”  _

He wasn’t making sense, Evan realized. Connor was delirious. He didn’t even use Facebook really his profile picture was of a fucking bong he wasn’t making sense he wasn’t making any fucking sense. Evan blinked a few times, frowning, trying to keep it together, saying gently, “You hate Facebook.”

Connor’s face contorted and he curled inward again, a feral desperate sound of pain escaping him. Evan immediately wanted to cry at the sound, it was so unlike Connor and he hated it, he hated it so much. Evan knew Connor was not a complainer, not about pain, he had a high pain tolerance and he wouldn’t be here, he wouldn’t be crying out and shaking and feverish like this if it wasn’t something serious. Evan tried to remember what his mother had said, tried to focus, be helpful. 

“Okay,” Evan said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Connor, I think you have appendicitis. Can you show me again where it hurts?” 

Connor gestured to the right side of his stomach, his face still screwed up in pain, still whimpering. Evan squeezed his hand again. “I’m calling an ambulance. You’re going to be okay.”

Evan watched in horror as Connor’s face relaxed a little and he realized his boyfriend wasn’t conscious again. He dialed 911 as fast as his fingers would allow him, leaning over to whisper, “I love you I love you I love you” to Connor while he waited to be connected. Evan spoke to the operator in a clipped voice, repeating what he knew. High fever. Abdominal pain. Vomiting. His mom who was a nurse (a slight fib) worried it was appendicitis. 

“An ambulance is on its way, sir, just stay on the line.”

Evan refused to leave Connor, so he put the call to 911 on speaker and grabbed Connor’s phone, calling Jax downstairs to let them know what was happening. 

“Connor are you honestly calling me from upstairs?” Jax sounded amused. “You’re not  _ that _ sick, are you?”

“It’s Evan,” he said shortly. “Connor’s really sick, and I called an ambulance.”

“Wh-what?” Jax repeated, sounding horrified. Shocked. They’d been cracking a joke a moment ago and now they sounded scared. 

“Yeah, so when they get here let them in,” He went on, “And you’ll have to close up tonight.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Jax asked in a small voice. “An ambulance, that’s serious.”

“I have no idea if he’ll be okay! No idea!” Evan snapped. “Why didn’t you say it was this bad when you texted me?”

“I didn’t know,” Jax said, their voice frantic. “I… He just threw up, I didn’t know, I thought -”

“Just let the paramedics in when they get here,” Evan said impatiently. “And once we’re gone, can you make sure you feed Edgar?”

“Yeah, of course, of course.”

Evan hung up, looking over at Connor helplessly, at his chest rising and falling with obvious effort, at his sweat soaked hair and his waxy and pale skin. His heart twinged painfully at the sight and Evan tried not to lose it, tried hard to keep it together. He had no idea what to expect, what was to come, but he texted his mom to say an ambulance was on its way. 

“No,” Connor mumbled feverishly, his fingers grasping Evan’s hand tighter, his brows knitted together. He whimpered again, and Evan leaned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead, trying to soothe him in whatever way he possibly could, knowing it was futile, knowing it was pointless but doing it anyway because he couldn’t just do nothing.

Edgar Allan Paw meowed loudly, and then a second later some paramedics with a stretcher appeared in Connor’s room. Evan stepped back, reluctantly letting go of Connor’s hand so they could take his vitals and they were saying things about his pulse and temperature and other medical jargon Evan didn’t understand. Edgar stood at Evan’s ankles, crying, and Evan stooped to pick the cat up, petting him and shushing him so the paramedics could work in peace. 

The two paramedics carried on about “abdominal tenderness” and “temperature of 102” and then agreed to move Connor to the hospital. 

“Looks like that appendix needs to come out,” One of them said to the other.

“Can I come with you?” Evan asked, his voice brittle. “To the hospital? I’m his… He’s my -”

“Of course,” The first paramedic said, nodding and giving him a bland smile. “You can even hold his hand in the rig.”

Evan nodded, slightly relieved. He let the paramedics gently lift Connor onto a stretcher and then carry him out of the apartment. Evan carried Edgar down the stairs with him, handing him over to Jax as he passed by, saying he would give them an update as soon as he had one. The paramedics loaded Connor into the ambulance and Evan climbed in after them, grasping for Connor’s hand frantically as they took off, the siren muted in Evan’s ears, the lights flashing brightly in the windows of the buildings they sped past. The professionals administered some pain meds and started tracking Connor’s blood pressure.

Connor suddenly opened his eyes. 

“Hey,” Evan said weakly, pushing back Connor’s hair gently. 

“Evan,” Connor said, his voice still too weak, his eyes heavily lidded. “Are you… are you really here?”

“Yeah,” Evan said back, “Are you?” Because it seemed like he wasn’t, it seemed like Connor was miles, even lightyears away. He seemed distant and hurt and so far away that Evan was scared he couldn’t reach him. 

“I don’t know,” Connor said, his voice breaking and Evan was horrified to see Connor’s eyes filling with tears. Shit, shit, he hated that he hated it. “I… I was… you were…” Connor trailed off, closing his eyes tight and then opening them again.

Evan didn’t know what he was supposed to do so he just stroked Connor’s hair and tried to keep looking reassuringly solid for him.

But then Connor said something that shocked the false calm right out of Evan. 

“Alav ha-shalom,” Connor said. “What does it mean?”

_ Peace be upon him.  _

Evan thought he felt his heart stop for a moment. 

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Connor didn’t know any Hebrew to Evan’s knowledge. He had never been to a Jewish funeral or visited a graveyard, and he’d only just attended his first Passover Seder with Evan this Spring at Mr. Abrahamson’s sister’s house and he got a little tipsy on Manischewitz and kept saying that he actually really liked horseradish despite the fact that he couldn’t keep from frowning when he ate some. There was no way Connor should know those words. There was no way he should have ever even heard them, but he was saying them in an ambulance, on the way to a hospital, and that scared the shit out of Evan that rocked him to his core why would he know those words where had he heard them,“Where did you-”

Connor’s voice is stronger, more insistent, “What does it  _ mean,  _ Evan?”

“It’s something you say if someone dies,” Evan tried to explain, but Connor’s eyes rolled back, closing again and Evan look frantically to the paramedics, saying, “He’s passed out again, oh god, he’s -”

They asked Evan move out of the way, starting to double check their work, talking hurriedly to one another and Evan wasn’t breathing right, he was not -

“Here we go,” The driver called and then the paramedics were pulling Connor out of the ambulance, and Evan followed numbly, answering the doctor’s questions. 

Connor Murphy. 

Twenty nine.

Allergic to bees, but not any medication.

Taking an antidepressant and a sleep aid.

Height, weight, insurance information, blood type. They ushered Evan to a waiting area, leaving him with a clipboard to fill out paperwork. Evan ignored it, instead opting to call Zoe. 

“Evan, what’s up -?”   
“I’m at the hospital with Connor. I think he might have appendicitis, he was throwing up at work and he’s in pain and running a fever. We just got here and the doctors are checking him out now.” He said it in a rush, like if he said it faster it might be easier news to take. 

“Fuck,” Zoe said. “Which hospital?”

Evan gave her the name, and she said she would be there as soon as she could. Evan turned back to the paperwork in front of him, his hands shaking badly as he tried to fill out as much information as he could about Connor’s insurance plan, thankful that he had helped to set up the healthcare at the bookstore because it meant he actually fucking knew this information. He returned the clipboard to the scrub clad person who had given it to him. They set him up with a visitor tag to wear and Evan stuck it to his shirt, taking his suit jacket off and loosening his tie, hating how he was so obviously sweaty, how he was so clearly stressed. Evan had a seat and waited, his heart still beating too fast, his hands still shaking. 

Realizing where he was, Evan took his phone out and called Alex. He got her voicemail and left a brief message. “Hi, it’s Evan. Sorry to call you at work but... I’m here? Connor’s in the hospital, we think it’s appendicitis, call me if you have a minute?”

Having done everything he could for the moment, Evan put his head in his hands and waited. He knew, logically, that this was probably not exactly life or death. He knew appendixes caused trouble but were an easy fix, he knew that logically. 

But Connor was scaring him. Connor with his wild eyes and his cryptic questions and suddenly speaking Hebrew and not just any Hebrew, like death Hebrew? He’d said that Facebook had said Evan was dead and he was clearly in so much pain. 

That scared Evan, that hurt. 

Even if Connor was just delirious, even if this was just the fever talking, Evan hated it. It hurt him. It hurt so badly, it sliced right through him to see Connor in this much pain. Evan thought back to the winter, when he had come down with walking pneumonia and tried to rationalize this fear. When he was sick, he had nightmares, terrible nightmares. It made sense that Connor might have them too. It made sense that he was sick and he was out of it and he was blurring the lines between his dreams and reality. 

But it didn’t mean it scared Evan any less.

A doctor appeared to speak with Evan. She gave him the short version… Connor’s appendix was inflamed and needed to come out. Thankfully it had not burst. It would be a little while before they could get Connor into surgery, but he was stable and on a morphine drip to keep comfortable until they could bring him to the OR. 

Evan nearly wept in relief. “So… he should be okay?”

The doctor nodded. “Appendicitis is definitely risky, but you did the right thing calling 911. His surgeon will come and speak to you before the procedure. It’ll just be a little while before the OR is ready, but we will monitor him until it is.”

“Can I see him?” Evan asked. 

“Of course,” The doctor said, leading him to a bed in the emergency room where Connor was laying in a hospital gown. He looked dangerously pale still, but his face wasn’t so pulled together with pain anymore, which was a relief. 

Evan had a seat beside the bed, taking Connor’s hand. “You’re okay,” he said softly. “You’re gonna be just fine. Zoe’s on her way. I love you so much.”

Connor’s eyes opened again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so thin. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Evan’s jaw dropped, disbelieving, “Connor. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He tried to reassure him, to touch him gently and prove everything was okay. He gave Connor’s hand a tight tight squeeze. 

“I’m so, so sorry-”

“Connor. Connor, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Evan said, trying to keep himself calm, keep his voice soothing and soft. He squeezed Connor’s hand tightly, trying to communicate that everything was going to be alright and failing spectacularly. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, looking Evan in the eye, his gaze unwavering and oh so heartbreakingly sad. “I… I didn’t… I…”

Fuck, why did he think he had to be sorry, Evan wondered. What had he dreamt, what had he seen that made him think he owed Evan an apology? Evan hated it he hated it so much. “You’re sick,” Evan said, his voice wavering a little, because that was it, that was all, Connor was just sick he had no reason to be sorry no reason at all. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Connor, this isn’t your fault.”

“No, but it is, it  _ is _ my fault, it’s  _ my fault,  _ I didn’t stop you I wasn’t  _ there,  _ I wasn’t-”

“Connor, love, you’re not making sense, you…” Evan trailed off. Connor’s eyes had slipped closed again, his face relaxing, and Evan looked desperately toward the nurse who was inputting information into a tablet, looking kind of bored. “Do you know why this is happening?” Evan asked her, his voice hard.

“Morphine makes you pretty sleepy,” She said to Evan, reassuringly. “It’s probably better if he sleeps through this anyway. We’ll get him to surgery soon.”

Evan wiped his eyes, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “Sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re just worried. It’s okay.”

“Thanks.”

He stayed there, sitting beside the bed, watching Connor’s face for any changes but he stayed unconscious, his face mostly slack and Evan stayed put, he held onto Connor’s hand, running the pad of his thumb across Connor’s knuckles, and watched the monitors for their reassuring beeps and lines, telling himself it was all going to be okay, that Connor was in good hands that he had done the right thing that this was a common medical procedure and Connor would be okay in a few hours. 

Not too long after the nurse left Connor and Evan alone, Zoe arrived, still in her work clothes and at Evan’s questioning look she explained that she was working one evening a week to accommodate school schedules. “How is he?”

Evan relayed all of the information he had about Connor’s condition. Zoe was frowning, her eyes concerned and she nodded with each piece of information Evan gave her. She looked scared. “They’re going to take him to surgery as soon as an OR is available,” Evan said. “And he’s on some drugs to help with the pain until then.”   


“Good,” She said, nodding to herself as she sank into a chair near the bed that Evan had been ignoring. “That’s good.”

“Zoe… he’s scaring me,” Evan said quietly. “I. I think he’s having nightmares or something? He seems… really out of it, like he doesn’t know where he is, and he…” Evan didn’t know why but he omitted the detail about the Hebrew. It felt too unreal to mention, too likely to make Zoe think he was nuts or fixating on the wrong information. Too close to what happened two years ago. “He keeps apologizing?”

“It’s probably just the fever,” Zoe said reassuringly. 

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right. You’re right.”

“You okay?” Zoe asked Evan, her head cocked slightly to the side. “You don’t look so good.”

“I. It’s been a long couple of weeks, and your brother is trying to give me a heart attack,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice as light as he could manage.

Zoe nodded, giving him a reassuring smile.  “He’s going to be alright, Evan. It’s scary but Connor’s going to be alright. If nothing else, he’s too stubborn to be taken out by something as useless as an appendix.”

“You’re right,” Evan said with a slight smile. “I know you’re right.”

“Come and sit down,” Zoe said softly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Evan did as he was told, taking a seat beside Zoe. She explained that she had called their parents on her way to the hospital, and she texted them now to update them about how Connor was doing. Evan felt weird about knowing that Larry knew what was going on, but he supposed if the roles were reversed, Evan wouldn’t have been surprised if someone let his father know he was in the hospital. Parents were always privy to that information, regardless of whether or not they deserved it.

“He’s going to be alright,” Zoe said again.

“I know,” Evan said, his head in his hands. He was dangerously close to breaking down, to losing it. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. “I know, I know… he just scared the shit out of me.”

Zoe’s hand rubbed his back reassuringly, and she sort of laughed a little. “Loving Connor does tend to come with a healthy dose of having the shit scared out of you.”

Evan laughed, a little surprised. “You’re not wrong.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself, trying to tell himself that all of the weirdness of Connor’s behavior today was clearly just because he was sick. It was the fever talking, it was the fever and Connor was alright. He was going to be alright, Evan told himself, but it didn’t stop his shoulders from shaking, it didn’t stop the tears from suddenly forming, and he buried his face in his hands and hoped Zoe wouldn’t judge him for freaking out like this, for crying. 

She just kept rubbing his back, saying it was going to be alright, “You did everything you were supposed to, Evan, it’s gonna be alright.”

He fucking hoped she was right. He was notorious for doing exactly what he was supposed to do only to fuck it all up. Evan took a shaky breath, wiped his face awkwardly. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Zoe asked him after a couple of minutes.

“Not as much as I should be,” Evan admitted. “Just. Stupid work stuff keeping me up. I’d have been here to help sooner if I hadn’t been in court,  _ fuck _ , maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I had just been here.”

“You did everything right,” Zoe insisted. “And you know things always feel worse if you haven’t slept.” Zoe gave him a gentle smile. “Come on.” She patted her shoulder. “Close your eyes for a few minutes. It’s gonna be a little bit before Connor can go into surgery.”

“But what if -”

“If you fall asleep and if anything changes, I’ll wake you up. Promise.”

That wasn’t what he meant. 

What if he closed his eyes and saw whatever Connor was seeing?

What if he looked away for one second too long and Connor disappeared like the mirrors? 

What if none of this was really real? 

“I’ll wake you. I swear.”

Evan nodded. He awkwardly rested his head against Zoe’s shoulder, thinking ruefully that if his seventeen year old self could see this he would probably lose his damn mind. Zoe breathed evenly, and Evan tried to focus on that, on the steady sound of her breathing and the reassuring beeps of Connor’s monitors. He closed his eyes, and though he tried to fight it, eventually Evan let sleep take him. 

It felt like barely seconds later when Zoe moved suddenly, surprised, and Evan’s eyes snapped open, shoved unpleasantly back into consciousness. 

He knew it wasn’t just seconds that passed however, because through the windows Evan could see that the sun had totally set, that it was dark now, and he had been asleep for a while. 

His eyes focused on Connor, awake now, still looking too small and too frail in the hospital bed and to Evan’s absolute horror, he watched as Connor’s eyes flooded with tears. What the fuck was happening to him? Evan couldn’t stand it, he hated it, he hated it. 

“Hey,” Zoe said in this soft voice as she reached out and touched Connor’s arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird,” Connor murmured, his words slurring together. He blinked a few times, slowly, and Evan knew he was just out of it on the morphine, he knew he was just disoriented but it was still terrifying to see Connor looking around like he didn’t know where he was. 

“Yeah, well, you’re on some pretty heavy pain medication,” Zoe said, her voice almost cheerful, almost joking. Connor tried to smile or nod or something but it just twisted his face weirdly for a moment. “They’re just trying to keep you comfortable until the surgery.”

“When?” Connor asked, frantic energy coloring his slurry and slow words. 

“Soon,” Evan said, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in Connor’s forehead, trying to ease the worry that had obviously consumed him. He took Connor’s hand gently in his, hating how it was so cold and clammy in his grip but squeezing it gently anyway, trying to provide Connor an anchor, something he could hold onto until they could patch him up.

Connor shifted, like he was trying to move or reach out something, but after a couple of minutes of struggling, he slumped back against the bed, totally still and Evan felt his breath catching, he felt his heart squeezing painfully. 

“I love you,” Connor slurred, his voice urgent, like he was trying to communicate something important. “I’m not… I want to stay, Evan, I want to stay with you, I can’t… I don’t… please stay, please let me stay.”

What the fuck what the fuck?

What was Connor saying, why was he saying this?

Evan felt like his heart was in his throat, like he was choking on it, but he kept it together as best as he could, holding Connor’s hand tighter, trying to give him a reassuring smile, trying to convince himself it was just the fever, it was just the morphine… and failing. He squeezed Connor’s hand tighter. 

“No one is going anywhere. We’re okay,” Evan said gently. “It’s going to be okay, you’re just…” He had to take a second, to collect himself, to breathe. “You’re sick but you’re going to feel a lot better soon.”

Connor whimpered softly and Zoe and Evan exchanged a worried look, but then Connor was out again, his brow smoothing out, his eyes closed again. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Zoe said, her voice hard. 

“I don’t know,” Evan said, and he was scared he was fucking scared. “I don’t know what’s going on.” He cleared his throat, “How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” Zoe said. 

“Sorry,” Evan said, feeling sheepish. “Sorry, I -”

“I literally told you to do it,” Zoe said dismissively. “The nurse keeps apologizing, I guess there was some big trauma that was occupying all the operating rooms, but they said it shouldn’t be too long now.”

Evan sat back in his chair, breathing unevenly. His neck was sore from sleeping on Zoe’s shoulder. His eyes felt gritty and dry. He picked his phone up, saw he had a text from Alex, asking what was going on and Evan texted her back to explain. Not even ten minutes passed and then Alex was standing in the doorway. 

“Hi folks,” She said, smiling slightly. Her red hair was tied up in a messy bun. “Still waiting for an OR to open up?” 

“Yeah,” Zoe said. 

“Just figured I’d check in on you,” Alex said, going over to Connor and taking his vitals. “His temperature’s a little high, but otherwise he’s stable.”

Evan nodded. 

“Looks like Lorenzo Altera is Connor’s general surgeon,” Alex said. 

“What are his credentials?” Evan asked, his voice stricken. “Is he good?”

“He’s good,” Alex said, smiling. 

“Where’d he go to medical school?” Evan asked, and yeah, okay, that was an obnoxious question but he didn’t give a single solitary fuck. 

“He went to med school at Stanford,” Alex said, smiling. “He’s very good, trust me, if you had a dud I’d be throwing a fit for you, promise.”

Evan nodded to himself, trying to be reassured by Alex’s calm demeanor. 

“Besides, he’s terrified of me so he knows better than to fuck up when he’s operating on one of my friends.”

“Why’s he terrified of you?” Zoe asked. 

“Oh, I knocked some abusive dick out in the ER my first week here when he was covering the emergency room,” She said with a shrug. “He called me a dyke and was clearly hitting his girlfriend, so I punched him.”

“Holy shit,” Zoe said, smiling. 

“He was endangering the other patients,” Alex said with a shrug. “Lorenzo’s good though, even if he’s scared of me.”

Evan nodded. “Thank you.”

It didn’t take a lot longer after that. Dr. Altera came to speak with them, finally, to say they would be taking Connor up to surgery shortly. Zoe asked a lot of good questions about potential complications and how long they expected Connor to have to stay in the hospital once the surgery was finished, and Evan fretted and might have sort of accidentally implied he might sue the doctor if anything happened to Connor after Dr. Altera reassuringly tried to say that an appendectomy was a “baby surgery, I’d let an intern do it.”

“You’d let an intern do it?” Evan repeated, his voice fierce, “You had better be planning to operate yourself.”

“Oh of course, I just… I’m sorry, I just meant it’s a very straightforward procedure.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Evan said stupidly, idiotically, and started listing all of the malpractice  attorneys he could call until Zoe put her hand on his arm. 

“He’s just worried.”

“Understandable. I will do my best work to help your boyfriend. There’s no need to  call any of those folks yet, okay?”

Evan knew was so much, so ridiculous, but he was scared and Connor wasn’t really here right now. 

“We’re going to take him up now,” One of the younger doctors said to Evan, now obviously terrified she was going to be sued. 

Evan nodded to himself. Zoe leaned over, saying something softly in Connor’s ear and kissing his cheek. When she stepped away, Evan just stared, helplessly, unsure what to do. 

“Evan?” Zoe said. 

“Right,” he said, shaking himself. He stepped to the side of Connor’s bed, pressing a kiss to his sweaty and clammy forehead, saying, “I love you so much. Be safe, okay? I love you.” He kissed Connor once more, squeezed his hand, and the young doctors wheeled his gurney out of the room. A nurse escorted Evan and Zoe to the waiting area. Zoe sat down, looking at her phone, and Evan paced, chewing his nails, biting his cuticles. 

He wanted a fucking cigarette, but he was trying to properly quit. He hadn’t had a cigarette in weeks, and before that, almost a month. He didn’t like the nicotine patches, they irritated his skin and the gum tasted like a used condom and he fucking wanted to smoke to give himself something to do other than to pace this waiting room and think about how Connor knew “Alav ha-shalom,” think about how he was begging Evan to stay. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

“How’s the quitting going?” Zoe asked Evan softly after a few minutes.

“Badly,” He said, frowning. “Am I that obvious?”

“No,” She said. “I just know you’re stressed. Will it make you feel better?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s something to do,” Evan said. 

“Okay. Let’s go outside then,” Zoe said. 

“But what if -?”

“An appendectomy takes around an hour,” She said. “They won’t be back to tell us anything for a while. Let’s go outside. I could use some air too.”

So Evan followed Zoe outside, pulling his mostly empty pack of cigarettes out of his bag and they walked to a small bench not terribly far from the entrance of the hospital. Evan lit his cigarette and Zoe sat down, stretching her neck. 

“He’s going to be alright,” Zoe said reassuringly. 

“Yeah,” Evan said, because well. He would be. Connor was a survivor, he had survived worse, he had survived death, literally. His appendix was not going to be the thing that killed him. 

That wasn’t really what scared Evan. 

No, it didn’t scare him nearly as much as Connor’s desperate voice, as his wild and scared eyes, it didn’t scare him as much as Connor speaking Hebrew out of nowhere. 

Something about that made Evan’s blood run cold, made him feel like he had bitten into aluminum foil. Something about that was familiar in an unfamiliar way.

It scared him.

It felt just… just too close to two years ago, it felt just a shade too close to just be fever dreams… 

“Maybe now isn’t the time to say something,” Zoe said, her voice more firm, more solid. “But do you… do you always cry like that?” 

“What?” Evan said, exhaling smoke, not knowing what she meant. 

“So quietly,” Zoe said, trying to smile at him. “Just… I wouldn’t have even known if I wasn’t paying attention. If you were one of my clients I’d be calling CPS.”

“I…” Evan’s voice died, and he felt called out, he felt trapped his heart started to race, his hands shook. “Why?”

“Because big emotions are supposed to… be big. Loud, messy, you know? Kids cry to get attention, to get people to pay attention to whatever they might be feeling. That doesn’t go away as we get older, we just learn to be embarrassed about it. I guess. It kinda… it worries me a bit that...”

Evan just stared at her, just stared helplessly, not knowing what he could say. 

“Just. You’re allowed to have feelings about this, you know? If you’re scared or angry or whatever. You don’t need to hide it. You’re in a safe place to have those feelings.”

Evan swallowed hard. He took another drag of his cigarette, not able to look at her, to meet Zoe’s eyes. “I just. I don’t know how to do it any differently.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Sorry to bring it up, sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” 

He finished his cigarette, then he sat beside Zoe on the bench. They sat quietly for a bit, before Zoe’s phone began to ring. She said, “It’s our mom,” and then stood, walking away a little. Evan stayed put, watching her. 

“Hi mom. Yeah. Yeah, they just took him into surgery. Yeah.” She looked at Evan, smiling almost. “Yes he’s here mom. He’s the one who brought Connor to the hospital.” A pause. “Yeah, I mean, obviously we’re both worried but… Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Oh? Oh good, yeah, that’s good.” Zoe put her phone to her chest for a second, addressing Evan. “Mom’s got a flight to New York first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank god,” Evan breathed. 

“Yeah,” Zoe said. She put the phone back to her ear. “Yeah mom.” She laughed. “Well Evan and his roommate both threatened the doctor to make sure he did a good job, so no, dad doesn’t need to come and throw his weight around. Is he going to come see Connor?” Her face morphed into a grimace. “Figures. Typical fucking Larry.”

Zoe and her mom talked a little longer and Evan picked his own phone up, looking at Zoe and mouthing “my mom” before stepping a little away so that Zoe could continue her own call uninterrupted. He called his mother. 

“Evan, baby, how’s Connor?”

“They just took him to surgery. You were right about his appendix,” Evan said, his voice shaky. 

“I’m glad that’s all,” She said. “I know it’s scary, but at least it’s not anything more serious.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, nodding to himself. 

“How are you holding up, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” Evan said, then flinched because he was fucking lying, he was lying to her. “No that’s. I’m scared. He was… Connor wasn’t making sense, mama.”

He never called her that anymore. Not since he was very small. 

“You can be scared, Evan. That’s totally normal. But it’ll be alright.”

“He was so out of it. He kept apologizing, and I don’t know why…”

“I’m sure it was just the fever. Was he on drugs?”

“Morphine,” Evan answered. “They put him on morphine.”

“Morphine can make things seem sort of unreal,” She said, her voice soothingly firm. “When I worked at the nursing home, one of our patients was on a morphine drip and started to apologize to me once about how her son never asked me to marry him. People don’t always make sense in those situations.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said softly. “He…” Evan stopped. “Mom, he was speaking  _ Hebrew. _ ”

She let out a strange laugh. “Does he know any Hebrew?”

“No,” Evan said miserably.

“Well what did he say.”

“Alav ha-shalom.”

“Oh shit,” his mom said. “Yeah, that would be freaky. I’d be really scared if someone said that to me out of nowhere.” She clicked her tongue. “Has he ever been to a Jewish funeral?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Evan said. 

“I wonder where he learned that,” She said, her voice curious. “Connor is going to be okay, baby. He’s just out of it because of the drugs.”

“You’re probably right,” Evan said though he didn’t believe her. 

“He’s going to be okay. Did they say how long the surgery would be?”

“They said probably like… an hour or so?” Evan said. “They’re hoping to do it laparoscopically, I guess.”

“That’s good. They usually wouldn’t do that in an adult if his appendix had burst. This is a good sign, Evan.”

“Yeah.”

They talked a little longer, his mom’s voice helping Evan’s racing heart and shaking hands to calm a little. Zoe was back on the bench, looking at her phone, and Evan told his mom he loved her like seven times before he ended the call. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Zoe returned. “My dad’s not fucking coming. Naturally.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, trying to keep his feelings off of his face. 

“He’s such a fucking bastard,” Zoe said. She ran a hand over her face. “I don’t like… being here.”

Evan nodded, taking a seat on the bench again. 

“In high school. You know about what happened to Connor, right?”

“He cut his wrists,” Evan said softly. “He spent a long time in a psychiatric ward.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “I found him.”

“I know.”

“They almost lost him in the ambulance,” Zoe went on, her voice hollow. “And once we got the hospital, I just… They just put me in a waiting room. It took forever for my parents to get there,” She said. “They had to give him a transfusion. He had lost a lot of blood. And I was just stuck in this waiting room, all wet and bloody and alone… I’m just. Thank you for being here.”

“Of course I'm here.”

“I know but. It’s easier, not to be alone. Expecting the worst because human brains are stupidly wired to expect the worst.”

“Yeah. Fuck being human.”

“Amen, dude.”

Eventually, they headed back inside. Zoe bought them coffees from a cart near the waiting room and they retook their posts, sipping their coffee quietly. Alex came to sit with them for a little while, telling them she had been watching from the gallery and it was going okay. 

And then it was finally over. 

Zoe grabbed Evan’s hand tightly as Dr. Altera walked over to them, smiling. “The surgery went well. It was a little touchy for a moment because his appendix was very close to bursting, but we’ve cleared the infection. Connor will make a full recovery and be able to go home soon.”

Zoe hugged the doctor, thanking him, and Evan apologized for threatening to sue. “Can we see him?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a little time for him to come out of anesthesia, but we’ve moving him to recovery now. You can go see him in a few minutes.” 

Zoe wiped her eyes and told Evan he was not allowed to tell Connor that she had cried. 

“You’re allowed to have feelings about this,” Evan returned, smiling. 

“Fuck off,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes. 

They parted to call their moms, let them know that Connor was going to be okay. Not long after, they were led back to Connor’s new room on the post-op floor. 

Connor looked better already, Evan thought. Less pale, his breathing no longer labored, his brow not furrowed in pain anymore. He seemed to be resting peacefully and Evan hoped beyond hope that was actually true. He took a seat beside the bed, reaching out and taking Connor’s hand. Zoe left to make a couple of calls, clearing her schedule for the next day, saying she would be right back. 

Before long, Connor opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and Evan held his hand tighter. 

Connor squeezed back weakly and Evan let out a breath he had been holding, relieved beyond words. 

“Hey,” Evan said softly, trying to keep himself in check, not to scare Connor. “How are you feeling?”

Connor looked confused. “I… fuzzy,” he answered, his voice a bit hoarse. 

Evan smiled a little. “Makes sense. You’re pretty drugged up. They say the surgery went well, but your appendix was pretty fucking close to bursting.” 

Connor nodded vaguely, and Evan couldn’t stop himself, he had to kiss his cheek, he had be be sure Connor was really there, really solid and real. “How come you didn’t tell me you were feeling so bad?”

“I… didn’t realize,” Connor said, his voice muzzy and slurred a little “Just thought… tired. Lots on.” He gave Evan a weak, pale impression of a smile. “High pain tolerance.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said, feeling his smile slipping off.  He kissed Connor again. “You… I’m just glad you’re okay. You’ve been pretty out of it.”

Connor’s eyebrows knitted together, and he opened his mouth once but then closed it. He tried again, his voice a little clearer. “I love you.”

Evan tried his best to smile at Connor because he loved him, he loved him so much. “I love you, too.” He reached out, brushing some of Connor’s hair back off of his face. As relieved as he was to see him awake and making more sense, he knew that Connor still wasn’t totally well. And Evan needed him well, he needed Connor healthy, he needed him here and alive. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll be right here. I’m staying here.”

Connor smiled a little, but his eyes slipped closed again easily. Zoe returned moments later, saying she had moved her morning appointments around so one of them could stay with Connor tonight. 

“He woke up for a minute,” Evan said. “Still pretty out of it but he was making more sense this time.”

“Good,” Zoe said, relieved. “That’s good.”

Neither of them left. They both stayed, watching Connor. He came to a few more times, always for short periods, but he seemed like he was actually there when he came back. Zoe chastised him for letting himself get so sick, and Connor weakly protested that he just thought it was the stomach flu before falling asleep again. 

Every single time, Connor’s eyes sought out Evan first, relief coloring his face whenever he found him. And Evan was happy to bring that, but he didn’t know what caused the fear. He didn’t know why Connor might have thought he was gone or dead or not real. And he hated it. But he stayed. 

Of course he stayed. 

Evan would do anything for Connor.


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Connor’s fine, it’s all okay. You did good, you did a good job, you kept him safe.”

Evan had literally never cared less about fishing waste. 

He knew he needed to care. He was co-counsel on this case with his boss Jonathan, he was responsible for their main argument, he was being tested, being watched, being considered for junior partner which was a big fucking deal this soon out of law school, and Evan just didn’t give a flying fuck about fishing waste. 

He wanted to. If it were any other week, he’d be eating, sleeping, and breathing this case, he’d only go to bed when Connor reached out and took his laptop out of his hands, he’d be practicing arguments in front of Edgar while he ate breakfast because Connor’s place was closer to the courthouse. 

But Connor was sick and he was clearly scared about something he wasn’t telling Evan so Evan was scraping the bottom of his give-a-shit pile to muster up some enthusiasm about old fishing nets and harbor seals. 

He’d stayed with Connor that overnight in the hospital, his ears still echoing with “Alav ha-shalom,” with Hebrew out of Connor’s mouth, with Connor begging to please stay please let him stay and not having any idea what that meant or why Connor might have been saying it. 

Plus every time Zoe suggested that Evan go home, Connor would flinch, would squeeze his hand tighter, even when he was only half awake, and Evan couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t, he physically couldn’t… Fishing waste be damned. 

When dawn broke and Connor had made it through the night without any incidents (no fevered mumblings, no Hebrew, no high temperatures or intense pain), Zoe put her foot down and told Evan he had to go and at least shower before he was due in court at eight o’clock. 

She was right, of course. She was right. He had to work, and he couldn’t show up in yesterday’s clothes, wrinkled from the uncomfortably hospital room chairs. He had to work because the world didn’t stop if Connor was sick as much as Evan wanted it to, and Connor wasn’t alone he had his sister and his mom would be there soon. He wasn’t alone, he wouldn’t be alone… So Evan had to go. 

But he didn’t want to go. And Connor seemed scared to let him leave.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” He promised Connor, kissing him and holding his hand. “I swear.”

“You’re coming back?” Connor asked, his eyes searching, scared. It was the third time he had asked. 

“I’m coming back,” He said firmly. “As soon as I can, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He kissed Connor again. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Connor said. “Be safe, I love you.”  
Evan kissed him one last time. 

Sent a look to Zoe, who all but shooed him from the room, saying they would be fine, and Evan took a breath and he… left.

He went to Connor’s apartment to grab a shower and check on Edgar. Edgar seemed distressed, and he all but stayed glued to Evan’s side as he showered and shaved and fed the cat. He kept petting Edgar, reassuring him that “Connor’s fine, it’s all okay. You did good, you did a good job, you kept him safe.”

Evan wasn’t sure if he was telling himself that or the cat. 

He left the bookstore and the apartment about an hour later, stopping for coffee on his way to the courthouse and downing a quad redeye before he even got off the subway. 

“You’re late,” Jonathan sniped at him when Evan walked in to meet him, a full twenty-nine minutes early. “We’re supposed to be going over the Hernandez testimony.”

“I already prepped Mrs. Hernandez,” Evan said, irritably. “She’s ready.”

“You should have been here five minutes ago -”  
“Jonathan my partner had emergency surgery and I spent the night in the hospital so I would appreciate if my being one minute later than you expected could be overlooked just this once.”

“Shit, Hansen, Murphy’s kid’s in the hospital? He alright?”

“He’ll be fine,” Evan said. 

“Fucking hell, you’re going to be able to focus today right? I’m counting on that Hernandez testimony -”

“I can do my job Jonathan,” Evan snapped. 

Jonathan smiled this big huge smile. “This is why I hired you, Hansen. You’re all about the work.”

Evan sort of wanted to punch him. 

But he got through the day, texting Zoe to check in at the recess for lunch and getting through the Hernandez testimony without any issues. When court adjourned at five o’clock, Jonathan made some noises about Evan heading back into the office to help him go over the notes from that day and Evan sighed wearily and asked if he could please just email him? 

“With all due respect sir, I cannot do that today,” Evan said firmly. “My boyfriend is being released from the hospital tonight and I need to be with him.”

Jonathan started to mumble something about work ethic and millennials and Evan smiled at him, this false, tight smile. “Trust me sir, I get the feeling everyone would be happier if I didn’t leave Larry Murphy’s son to make his own way home from the hospital. Or did you want me to share your personal number with him?”

That seemed to do the trick. Evan left the courthouse before Jonathan could change his mind, stopping and eating a highly unsatisfying sandwich at the first deli he could find before drinking another coffee, smoking a cigarette, and making his way back to the hospital. He figured Connor could forgive him for unquitting at this moment, considering the circumstances. He was absolutely, to his bones exhausted, but Evan couldn’t stop moving, wouldn’t stop going until he saw with his own eyes that Connor was okay. 

He smiled when he walked into the room, so fucking pleased that Connor was awake, that he had more color in his cheeks. Cynthia was there now too, and she hurried over to hug him, saying he looked tired and Evan politely brushed her off. “I’m fine, thank you,” He said. “Connor? How are you feeling?”

“Still kind of… weird,” He said, his voice a little raspy, his words still not totally clear.

Evan nodded, taking the empty chair nearest to Connor and reaching out for Connor’s hand. Connor took it, giving Evan’s hand a squeeze. Connor’s fingers brushed lightly over Evan’s bitten up fingernails and cuticles and Evan felt his face flush with shame. He kissed Connor’s knuckles and turned Connor’s hand so his own weren’t so visible. 

“Better than yesterday,” Zoe said, nodding. She was in fresh clothes and looked a little less tired. He assumed she had taken her own advice and gone home for a while. “Still pretty zonked on pain killers though.”

Evan nodded, trying to smile, trying to look like he was just an appropriate amount of worried and scared. He just held Connor’s hand. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I love you, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too,” Connor said, his voice sort of distant, his eyes closing again. 

“He’s been sort of in and out today,” Cynthia said. “Your friend, Alex? She’s come by to check on him every few hours and keeps reassuring us that he’s going to be a little bit fuzzy for a bit with all the pain meds.”

“She’s come by?” Evan said, genuinely touched that Alex had been here at all, had come to keep an eye on Connor when he couldn’t. “That’s… that’s good. I’m glad, I should… I’ll text her to say thank you.” He pulled out his phone, irritated at how the words on the screen seemed to swim in front of him for a moment while he tapped the message out, thanking Alex, who also promised to bring food over to Connor’s tomorrow. Evan thanked her again and again, so fucking grateful that she cared, that she existed. 

“They said they could probably discharge him tonight,” Cynthia said brightly. “They’re just waiting to hit the twenty-four-hour mark.”

“Right,” Evan said, nodding. “That’s good.”

“Your mother came around to keep my company last night,” Cynthia went on, and it genuinely took Evan a moment to realize she was still addressing him because he was so worn out but, duh, obviously she was talking to him. Cynthia was the mother of everyone else in the hospital room.

“She did? That’s… that’s nice of her,” Evan said quietly. “I didn’t… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“She came by with fries and some wine and just kept me company while we waited for more news. I really really appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, feeling a strange twinge of jealousy, because part of him would have rather his mom had been here to keep him company through last night’s ordeal. 

“She also told me that when Connor was out of it he started… Saying something in Hebrew?” She delivered this like it was a funny, drugged up thing to say. “How strange, right? I doubt he knows how to say anything in Hebrew.”

“Pr-probably not,” Evan said, his breath a little shaky. “Weird, right? Just. Kinda weird. Painkillers can make things weird.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go and get some sleep?” Zoe said pointedly to Evan. “You were here all night and then you were in court all day. You’ve got to be wiped.”

“I’m good here,” Evan insisted. He wasn’t leaving without Connor. He wouldn’t.

Zoe pressed her lips into a thin line, but she didn’t push. Cynthia announced that, well, since Evan was here, she and Zoe should out to go and stretch their legs and get a snack or something since it might be a few hours before Connor was cleared to go home. Zoe seemed a bit reluctant, but Cynthia ushered her out of the room, saying quietly, “Maybe they just need a few minutes alone, honey.”

Evan didn’t really see the point. Connor was still out like a light. But he was breathing evenly and he looked a lot better than he had last night, so Evan was grateful that he was okay. Even if things felt sort of… unreal.

“I feel like you’re not telling me something,” Evan said to Connor, still out cold. “I hate that. I want to help… but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Alex popped her head in maybe ten minutes later. 

“How’s it going team?” She said, smiling. “Er, well. Team member. I see he’s out.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. 

“Pain meds, am I right?” She smiled at him. “What’s going on?”

“Just waiting for Connor to get the okay to go home.”

Alex smiled, sliding into the seat beside him. “Your boyfriend is such a fucking sweetheart. I don’t know what he was on about earlier, but he kept apologizing to me? He was very earnest.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, his voice sort of hollow in his own ears. “He kept apologizing to us too.”

“Weirdo,” She said affectionately. “How are you holding up? Lorenzo seemed pretty sure he was going to walk into a malpractice suit this morning.”  
Evan felt his cheeks go warm. “Sorry. Will you tell him I’m not usually that much of an asshole?”

“I think it’s hilarious,” she said. “But seriously, you good? I talked to Heidi earlier and she said you seemed pretty stressed out.”  
Normally, Evan thought it was kind of adorable that his mom had basically adopted his roommate. Ever since Thanksgiving, Heidi and Alex talked like once a week. He’d always sort of viewed Alex a little like he might a sister, and his mom seemed pretty fucking determined to make her his sister officially. She was very supportive of Alex’s career and her relationship with Mattie and it was all very nice, normally. 

Until his mom went and weaponized Alex to check on him. 

“I’m alright,” He said evenly. 

“I know you stayed here last night.”

“So?”

“And I know you had a court appearance today,” she went on. “Sounds like you probably had a long day.”

“I’m fine,” Evan said defensively. 

“I just meant… Connor’s family is here. And he’s barely even conscious. I’m sure he would rather you come home and get some sleep -”

Evan doubted that Alex was wrong. But he wasn’t going anywhere, not after the scare Connor had given him. “I’m fine. Really.”

Alex was sizing him up, and he knew it. “Have you eaten anything today?” She said, her eyes narrowed. “Be honest.”

“A bagel for breakfast, then a granola bar at a break in the day, and I had a sandwich from one of the delis near the courthouse on my way here.”

Alex did look relieved by his answer. “Okay. Make sure you actually eat something for dinner, okay? If you pass out -”

“I’ve never once passed out from low blood sugar,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. 

“I was just going to say I’d rather you do it here, so I don’t need to lug an IV kit home again.” She nudged his shoulder fondly. 

“Har har, so funny.”

“I know, I crack myself up.”

Alex left just as Zoe and Cynthia were returning. Zoe had brought Evan back a coffee, which he assumed was maybe a peace offering or a sign that she was going to stop bitching at him to leave because he fucking wouldn’t. 

Evan sighed trying to put his very uncharitable thoughts toward Zoe out of his mind. He wasn’t annoyed at her. None of this was her fault. He sipped his coffee gratefully, and then he and Cynthia and Zoe discussed the plan for the next few days. Get Connor home, and Cynthia was going to stay for at least a week to give him time to recover properly. Zoe had been in touch with the bookstore kids, and Leslie had put together a temporary schedule so all of Connor’s shifts would be covered. 

“I can try to get some time off,” Evan said tentatively. “Once this trial ends… It shouldn’t be long, tomorrow should be the end of it.”

“You could probably use a rest,” Cynthia said gently. 

“I meant… I meant for Connor,” Evan said helplessly. 

“I know you did sweetheart,” Cynthia said. “But you need to take care of yourself too.”

Evan swallowed hard, not wanting to look at Connor’s mother. 

But he was saved from an awkward conversation about his boundaries by a chipper nurse coming in and announcing that Connor was allowed to go home. “Just need to sign you out, go over steps to care for your incision, drug regimen, all that good stuff.”

“What’s happening?” Connor said suddenly, eyes open, his voice slurred.

“You get to go home sweetheart,” Cynthia said, kissing Connor’s forehead. 

“Oh,” he said, relaxing. “Good.” 

“I’m going to head to the apartment,” Cynthia said. “Get everything set up, pick up the prescriptions.” She looked to Zoe and Evan. “You two can handle taking him back to the apartment?”

“Of course,” Zoe said, smiling at her. 

Evan took notes on his phone while the doctors gave them the information they needed about Connor’s meds and caring for his stitches and how often he could take his pain medication. When the doctors finished giving Evan and Zoe the information, Evan forwarded his notes to Cynthia and Zoe. The doctors checked Connor’s incision one last time, declared it to be healing well, and then Evan was left alone to help Connor get dressed in some clothes Zoe had brought with her to the hospital. A loose cotton t-shirt, clean boxers, sweat pants, warm socks, and a soft clean hoodie. It was summer, but everyone said Connor might be a little cold. 

Evan helped Connor take his hospital gown off, trying to keep his fingers gentle and quick. He pulled the shirt over Connor’s head, then helped Connor to his feet, helped him to step into his boxers and sweatpants. Evan put on Connor’s socks for him, telling Connor he didn’t need to worry about doing it. He put on Connor’s shoes for him, and then an orderly returned to help Connor into a wheelchair and wheeled him out of the hospital. 

“I called a Lyft,” Zoe said to Evan as they walked out of the hospital doors. 

“Thank you,” he said to her. 

Zoe climbed into the front seat of the car, talking with the driver, while Evan sat in back with Connor, helping him to gently buckle the seatbelt so it wouldn’t rub against his incision and then taking Connor’s hand. The car took off, and Evan realized with every bump that they hit, Connor flinched harder, his face going more and more pale. 

“Squeeze my hand,” Evan said to him softly. “As hard as you can. Every time it hurts, okay? We’ll be home soon, we’ll be home so soon.” Connor squeezed his hand tight as they passed over another pothole or something and Evan heard himself bark at the driver that Connor had just had surgery, could he drive less like a moron. 

Fuck he was such an asshole sometimes. 

Like  _ he  _ couldn’t even fucking drive because he was such an anxious wreck, and he was yelling at some poor Lyft driver. Evan needed to calm the fuck down. 

When they arrived back at the bookstore, Evan leaned over to apologize to their Lyft driver for being a dick and gave him a twenty dollar bill, hoping to help make up for the unnecessary attitude he had given the man. “Sorry again I’m so sorry.”

They passed Jax on their way inside, and Evan again felt terrible for having snapped at them yesterday in all of the craziness. Zoe and Evan helped Connor navigate his way up the stairs slowly, and Evan hated it more with every step, because Connor was deathly pale, Connor was in pain and trying not to show it, and the moment they had him inside and in bed, Cynthia doled out his antibiotics and pain meds and thankfully, Connor was asleep within minutes. 

“I ordered Chinese,” Cynthia announced once Connor was sleeping. “Evan, Zoe says you don’t eat pork so I got you sweet and sour chicken instead. I hope that’s alright.”

“Thank you,” Evan said gratefully. “That’s really kind of you.”

Evan volunteered to head downstairs and grab the food, annoyed to discover Cynthia had already paid for the meal and the tip. He collected the bags anyway, and before heading upstairs, Evan stopped to look in at Jax who was going through the process of shutting down for the night. They looked a bit nervous at the sight of him and Evan knew it was because he had totally been a prick to them the day before.

“How’s Connor doing?” they asked, their voice tentative. “I picked up a couple of extra shifts so he shouldn’t have to worry about the store -”

“He’s fine Jax,” Evan said. “He’s going to be totally fine.” Evan sucked in a breath. “I am… I am so sorry I was rude to you yesterday.”

Jax’s cheeks went pink. “Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“No, seriously. That was out of line and I’m really sorry. Thank you again for helping out, with Edgar and closing up today and yesterday. I really appreciate it, and I know Connor will too. And I’m really sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

Jax smiled. “I just… I’m happy to help.” They smiled sort of awkwardly. “Edgar’s got… quite the set of lungs on him. He cried until I had to go home last night. I think he was worried about Connor.”  
“Yeah,” Evan said, almost smiling. “Cats are… good. He’s a good cat.”

“I know,” they said, with a smile. “I… probably spoiled him with a few too many cat treats, trying to cheer him up.”

“Good. Edgar could use some spoiling.”

“He does.”

“You’re a really great person,” Evan said with a smile. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. Seriously.”

Evan took the food upstairs and he and Zoe and Cynthia had a quiet meal around Connor’s table. Evan secretly hated it, hated that Connor wasn’t there eating with him, and he also sneakily fed Edgar Allan Paw a few bites of chicken because his appetite was gone. 

“So this is the famous Edgar,” Cynthia said after a while, reaching over to pet him from where he had perched himself on Evan’s knee. 

“He’s a good boy,” Zoe said fondly. 

“He’s also Instagram famous,” Cynthia said with a grin. “The other day one of the moms at the school where I volunteer showed me his picture, saying she followed this bookstore just for the pictures of Edgar. She didn’t believe me at first until I showed her a picture of Connor and me.” Cynthia shook her head. “I don’t need to lie about having an Instagram famous grandkitty.” 

That was so fucking weird, Evan thought, but he smiled anyway. Edgar was a good cat. He deserved to be famous. 

Not long after they finished eating, Cynthia sent Zoe home with strict instructions for her to get some sleep. She hugged her mom and Evan both tightly before she went, and Evan followed her down to make sure the alarm was armed behind her. 

“Thank you again for being with him today,” Evan said. 

“Of course.”

Evan headed back upstairs, finding Cynthia tidying up the kitchen. Evan joined her, collecting the plates and utensils they had used to eat and washing them while she dried. He helped her put the dried dishes away, telling her where some of them went and putting a few things on the higher shelves for her. 

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to stay tonight,” Evan said quietly. 

“I figured you would.”

“I’ll take the couch,” He went on. “Stay out here with Edgar so he doesn’t bother Connor while he’s resting. He can be sort of playful and I… It just might be better if he lets Connor rest.”

“Of course. That’s very thoughtful of you.” 

Evan nodded. “I’m just…” He cleared his throat, feeling sort of embarrassed. “My clothes are in Connor’s room? So I’ll just. Go grab them, if that’s alright?”

“Honey, I don’t want you to feel like I’m in charge here,” Cynthia said gently. “I know you stay over a lot. I’m happy that you and Connor are together. Please, you don’t have to get my permission to do whatever you would normally do okay?”

Evan nodded gratefully. He quietly walked into Connor’s room, listening for a few minutes to Connor’s breathing, reassured that it was even and gentle and that hopefully Connor was healing and not in any pain. He grabbed some pajamas from the dresser he and Connor had picked out for him a few months back, after February, after the anniversary, then stepped into the bathroom to change, closing Connor’s door softly. 

He thought the bathroom remodel turned out well. The tub had been replaced with a walk in shower with all new tile and a water-conserving showerhead. There was a railing in the shower too, which Evan thought was fucking hilarious because realistically, Connor had had that installed for the purposes of sex. And they had definitely broken the shower in once the renovation was complete, testing out the structural integrity of the sex railing on numerous occasions. 

Evan shook his head, chastising himself for thinking about sex right now. He changed out of his suit and into his pajamas, then washed his face and brushed his teeth. If this were a perfect world, Evan would go out to the sofa and pass out immediately… but it wasn’t, and he had notes to get to Jonathan. Emails to answer. 

Evan took his meds, hanging his suit up in Connor’s closet and grabbing his laptop from where he had left it on his dresser two nights back. He headed out to the living room where Cynthia was reading in one of the armchairs, and Edgar jumped up to sit beside him. Evan scratched Edgar’s chin a few times before diving into work, typing up his notes from court today, sending an email to Mariah about the judge on one of her cases that they both thought was a douchebag, telling Asher he was sorry to miss happy hour tomorrow because Connor just had his appendix out and Evan would be home with him. 

“You remind me a little of Larry,” Cynthia said suddenly, and Evan started, having almost forgotten she was there. 

It took a moment for the words to process and then, honestly, Evan was a bit offended. He was sure it showed on his face. He didn’t want to be compared to Connor’s asshole of a father.

“Oh, not like… not how he is now,” Cynthia hurried to explain. “Back when we first got married, I meant. Back when he was… happier. Lighter, somehow. He was just a very passionate person. I used to have to pull his laptop out of his hands at night to get him to get some sleep.”

Evan swallowed, feeling uncomfortable because that was very familiar. 

“And it was the early nineties too, so those were early laptops. Heavy heavy things.”

“Yeah,” Evan said awkwardly, no idea how to respond to that. 

“When we first had the kids,” Cynthia went on. “Larry was working seventy, eighty hour weeks most of the time? But he always made sure he made it home in time to put them to bed. He’d read Zoe and Connor stories… half the time he’d get them all riled up and they wouldn’t want to sleep after that. I can’t tell you how many times at four or five, I’d catch him and Connor up too late, watching Letterman or something because Connor was too excited about reading to go to sleep after that. TV was an easy way to make him get bored and sleep.”

“That’s… really sweet,” Evan said, feeling awkward, thinking of how cold and callous Larry was now, especially toward Connor. 

“I don’t really know what changed or when it happened,” Cynthia said wistfully. “But I miss Larry. Or at least who he was.”  
Evan nodded. 

“I know you had to go up against him in court last year,” She went on, smiling. “Oh he was angry, losing to you. He called me to complain about it, saying you got a lucky win out of him, saying these things.” She let out a tinkling laugh. “I called him an old fart and told him you’d probably worked three times as hard as he had to prepare. Shut him right up.”

“You still talk?” Evan asked. 

“Oh, yes. Once or twice a week, usually. I never wanted… I always hoped he and I could stay civil, friendly, after the divorce. Not just for Zoe and Connor, but for us too. We had a good run, but it doesn’t mean we have to hate each other now.”

Evan nodded, feeling sort of uncomfortable to be getting this insider look at the ending of Connor’s parents’ marriage. “My parents still talk too.” He didn’t mention how fucking weird he thought that was, how annoying. 

“Your mom tells me your dad just had another baby.”

“I think Tracy did all of the work,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. Cynthia laughed at that. 

“Must be strange, to have a sibling that much younger than you.”

“Yeah. It really is.” He tried to smile. “I haven’t even met her yet. Amelia… that’s my other sister? At least I’ve met her. But I haven’t seen Natalie yet. She’s still really little though.” He didn’t say that he felt eaten up by guilt whenever his dad sent him a new picture of his new sister. He didn’t say he kept looking at flights to Denver only to close out the page before he did something stupid like buy a ticket. He didn’t say how he had been trying to work up the courage to ask Connor if he could take him up on his offer to go with if Evan were to visit his dad. 

“Do it when she’s older,” Cynthia advised, smiling. “When she’ll actually remember it.”

“Thanks.”

Maybe an hour and a half later, Cynthia announced she would be going to sleep. Evan had appreciated her quiet company that night. It helped, not to be stuck here by himself. She gave him a hug, thanked him for taking good care of her son, and headed first to the bathroom and then to the spare room, closing the door with a soft click and leaving Evan and Edgar by themselves. 

Evan yawned. He really was exhausted. 

He forced himself to get up and retrieve an extra blanket from the hall closet before he shut out the light and curled up on Connor’s tiny ass couch. Edgar jumped up to join him, curling up on Evan’s chest and purring. Evan pet his soft fur and slowly felt himself drift off. 

 

* * *

 

The time Connor spends in hospital is weird and hazy and every time he closes his eyes, he’s afraid he’ll end up somewhere else. He doesn’t have a great grasp on time passing, which Alex assures him makes sense because he’s on a lot of pain medication and he did just have surgery, but he remembers key things.

 

Things like Zoe telling Evan that he should go home and sleep because he’s got court in the morning and Evan absolutely refusing to leave, despite Zoe’s very logical argument that Connor’s out of surgery and is going to be fine and that Evan shouldn’t go to court on zero sleep. 

 

Things like Evan finally agreeing to leave so he can shower before court, and kissing Connor no fewer than six times before finally going. If Connor were feeling better, he’d be embarrassed to have asked Evan three times if he was coming back. 

 

Things like his mom showing up, kissing him on the forehead and holding his hand and telling him she loves him, and wrapping her arm around an obviously exhausted Zoe, who assures Connor that she’s not going anywhere, she’s cleared her schedule for the day and is staying. 

 

He remembers waking up and trying to eat something, but barely being able to stomach anything, and he remembers getting up to pee with his mom having to help him get to the bathroom and being very glad he had the parts that meant he could pee standing up, because sitting down would no doubt be super painful right now. 

 

He remembers Evan coming back in the early evening, looking utterly exhausted but smiling at the sight of him, taking a seat next to Connor’s bed and not moving for what must have been hours, just holding his hand and telling Connor he loves him. 

 

When Connor finally gets the okay to go home, the trip from the hospital to his apartment is one of the most fucking unpleasant things in memory. The Lyft driver seems to be on a mission to hit every pothole in New York, and every time the car jolts it sends a shock of pain through him. By the time they arrive at the bookstore, he’s in so much pain that he can’t do anything but take some more painkillers, crawl into bed and sleep. 

 

Connor wakes up to the sight of Evan, fixing his tie in the bedroom mirror. He looks at Connor and lets out this sigh of relief to see he’s awake. 

 

“Hey,” says Connor, knowing his voice is weak and hoping Evan can hear him. 

 

“Hey,” says Evan, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Connor immediately and kissing him softly. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not awesome,” he admits, frowning a little. “But it’s… it’s like a dull pain rather than a sharp pain now, which is good, I guess.” He sighs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

 

Evan tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, Connor.”

 

“If it had been  _ you _ in hospital, I’d be freaking out,” Connor says, feeling how rough his voice is. He swallows a little. His throat is dry and his head feels fuzzy. He pulls back the blanket and Evan’s eyes widen in alarm. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Going to get a glass of water.”

 

“Stay there,” Evan instructs, frowning. “I’ll get it for you, I’ll just be a minute.” 

 

Part of Connor wants to argue but he’s too tired, too sore, too worn down. Evan kisses him again, squeezes his hand tightly and heads out into the kitchen. Connor moves to sit up a little and lets out a hiss of pain, a sharp, hot sensation cutting through him. He’s still a little cold, so he pulls the blankets up tighter around him. 

 

It’s been a few minutes and Evan hasn’t come back. 

 

Connor feels cold. 

 

He tries to tell himself to calm down, not to panic, but… Evan hasn’t come back. He’d said it would just be a minute, but he’s not back yet, he’s not back, maybe he’s disappeared, maybe he’s slipped off into that other universe where he’s not really there, maybe he’s on the top of the roof of his apartment building in the middle of winter and Connor can’t get there, Connor can’t find his way to him, Connor can’t help him when he’s like this, oh god oh god oh god -

 

“Connor. Connor, sweetheart, you’re okay, it’s okay, everything’s okay.”

 

His mom has her arm on his shoulder, she’s telling him to breathe, telling her everything’s okay, and Connor looks up to see Evan in the doorway on his cellphone, his eyes wide with alarm and terror. He says something and ends the call and rushes over to sit on the other side of Connor, grabbing his hand and rubbing his thumb over Connor’s knuckles. 

 

“Hey,” Evan says, his voice gently. “You’re okay.”

 

“Sorry,” Connor manages to gasp out. He looks at Evan, trying to figure out how on earth to explain this. “I… you were… you’re okay?”

 

“I’m okay,” Evan assures him, still rubbing Connor’s knuckles. “I have to get to court, but this is hopefully the last day I’ve got a court appearance.” He kisses Connor’s cheek gently. “I was just talking to my boss. Trying to negotiate a little bit of time off, or at least being able to work from home the next couple of days.”

 

“That sounds good,” says Connor’s mom from his other side. “You must be exhausted, Evan.” Connor looks over to see she’s smiling a little, understanding on her face. “Going to court after spending all night in hospital with your partner who’s had emergency surgery should get you some brownie points, but I know what lawyers are like.” 

 

There’s a meow and then a movement at the foot of the bed, and Connor sees that Edgar has jumped up. Edgar Allan Paw rushes up to Connor and Evan starts a little, watching the cat carefully. It looks like Evan’s preparing to grab Edgar at any moment and Connor realizes he must be worried Edgar’s going to jump on his stomach or something. 

 

Edgar, however, seems to have figured out that things aren’t quite normal, and moves along the side of his body to curl up by his shoulder, not climbing up his legs and chest like he usually would. Evan visibly relaxes. 

 

“Hey buddy,” says Connor, carefully reaching out to scratch Edgar behind his ears. “I missed you.”

 

“He was so worried about you,” Evan says, his voice raw. “He yowled his little head off when I showed up to let me know something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop crying when the paramedics came.” Evan kisses Connor’s hand. “Jax said he didn’t stop crying for hours after we left in the ambulance, poor thing.” 

 

Connor pets Edgar more. “I’m sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He leans over and kisses Evan softly. “Or you.” He looks at his mom apologetically. “Or you, either. Fuck, this is embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

 

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” says Cynthia firmly, kissing him on the cheek. 

 

“I have to go,” Evan says reluctantly. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can be, okay? I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Connor replies immediately, and Evan kisses him a few more times before leaving, waving in the doorway a few times before actually leaving the apartment. 

 

Edgar purrs contentedly at Connor’s shoulder and his mom hands him a glass of water, which he finishes in one go. She smoothes back his hair and smiles at him. “You’re looking so much better already, sweetheart.”

 

“Probably would have been hard to look worse,” he says with a slight roll of his eyes, petting Edgar some more. 

 

Cynthia kisses him on the forehead, smoothes back his hair again and then squeezes his shoulder. “That boy is so in love with you,” she says after a moment, her smile widening. 

 

Connor can’t help smiling as well. “I love him so much,” he replies, automatically, like he can’t stop the words from pouring out. “He’s just… he’s so good, Mom, he’s such a good person, he cares so much.” 

 

“I think you two are great together,” his mom says, reaching out with her other arm to pet the cat. She smiles softly. “Heidi sends her love, by the way. She came over to keep me company the night you had your surgery, which was so sweet of her.” His mom laughs a little. “She just showed up at the house with a bottle of wine and some fries. Told me that Evan had called her and her mom instincts said I shouldn’t be alone.” 

 

“It’s cool you guys are friends,” Connor replies, because he does think it’s cool, even though Evan has expressed a couple of times that it’s “kind of weird, isn’t it?” He thinks that if he and Evan had been friends in high school, he would not have been even slightly okay with their moms being friends… but as adults, living in a completely different city? Honestly, he’s just glad his mom didn’t have to sit around waiting for news about his surgery by herself. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

 

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, sweetheart.” They sit quietly for a moment, both petting Edgar Allan Paw, who is delighted at the attention. After a while, she continues. “Your dad said to tell you he hopes you have a quick recovery.”

 

Connor can feel his shoulders tense up. “You talked to Dad?” he asks, before he can stop himself. 

 

Cynthia nods. “He drove me to the airport this morning. I had a six am flight so he insisted on picking me up at 4, even though there’s basically no traffic that time of day. Spent the whole drive telling me about how the hospital you were staying at had a low rate of medical malpractice cases but that if anything happened, he knows plenty of malpractice attorneys.” She looks a little sad. “He wasn’t able to come out to visit, though. He’s got back to back court appearances.”

 

“It’s okay,” says Connor, trying to make his shoulders relax, at least a little. “I know he’s busy.”

 

His mom’s expression falls a little. “Sweetheart, your father loves you.”

 

“I know,” says Connor carefully, not wanting to get into this with his mom. He tries to get comfortable, but it’s hard. He winces a little as he moves. 

 

Cynthia stands up and looks at the bed critically. “We need to get you more pillows,” she says after a moment, and leaves briefly to come back with the two extra pillows from the spare room. He gets out of bed carefully while she sets up the pillows and takes the opportunity to go to the bathroom, assuring her that he’ll be fine, even though he’s walking like an elderly invalid and feels like an idiot. 

 

Once he’s peed, he realizes just how gross he feels, but he doesn’t think he can quite brave a shower just yet, not without help, and he’s not about to ask his mom to help. 

 

He doesn’t exactly want to ask Evan, either, but it’d be a little less embarrassing, so he resolves to see if he can not-awkwardly broach that subject when Evan gets back. 

 

Connor stops to get another glass of water, and by the time he gets back into the bedroom he’s pretty much worn himself out completely. He gets into bed and finds that however the hell his mom has arranged the pillows, it’s actually comfortable now. Edgar settles on his shoulder, rubbing his little face in Connor’s neck, and Connor closes his eyes for a moment. 

 

He next wakes up to a gentle knock on the bedroom door. His mom pokes her head around the corner, and there’s Jax standing there, looking a little awkward. 

 

“Hey sweetheart,” says his mom. “I’m going to go grab a couple of supplies, but I didn’t want you to be alone, so Jax is going to hang out with you on their lunch break, okay?”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Connor says to Jax, frowning a little. “That’s not part of your job.”

 

“I want to,” Jax insists. They hold up their lunch bag. “I’ve got my food here, I’ll just sit and hang with you, okay?”

 

Connor kind of wants to argue, but there’s an armchair in the corner of the room and Jax makes themself comfortable and his mom waves and leaves and Connor just kind of… lays back on the pillows and feels like an idiot. 

 

“I’m really sorry,” Connor says to Jax after a moment of awkward silence, as apologetically as they can. “That must have been… fuck, I’m just really sorry you had to deal with that.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jax insists, their voice soft, and that sits uncomfortably with Connor, because he can still feel Evan walking through him to his death, can still feel his utter inability to stop him, to save him. They unwrap their sandwich, which is wrapped in one of those wax wrap things, and Connor finds himself wondering a. if it’s beeswax and b. how that works with being a vegan, but figures that getting wax and honey from bees isn’t actually hurting them and using beeswax in a sandwich wrap is a different thing to eating honey, potentially, and then he gets to thinking about vegan leather and how it’s just plastic and he’s way too tired for this. 

 

“Still,” Connor says after a long moment, because he realizes he’d never responded and Jax is looking at him with concern, “I am sorry you had to close up, and deal with the whole ambulance showing up thing. And with Edgar being so upset, oh my god.” He looks at Jax and tries to smile. “I owe you one once I’m recovered if you felt like a weekend off.”

 

Jax just smiles, a real smile where you can see the gap between their front teeth, which Connor thinks they’re a little self-conscious about because they’re always trying to hide it. “Connor, you’re acting like I did you this big favor,” they say with a laugh. “I was just being a decent human being.” Their smile softens. “I’m just glad you’re okay. It was scary.”

 

“Yeah.” Connor sighs. “I-”

 

“Seriously, no more apologies.” Jax reaches into their lunch bag and pulls out a packet of Oreos. “Want one?”

 

“Sure.”

 

They sit and eat together for a while, even though Connor’s barely eating anything because he’s still kind of nauseated. 

 

“Who’s on the shop floor?” Connor asks. 

 

“Leslie,” Jax explains, their voice matter-of-fact. “She organized a schedule for everyone for the next two weeks to give you some time to recover.” 

 

Connor, who has in fact been training Leslie up as assistant manager over the last two months, is impressed. “Good for her.”

 

“When you’re doing a bit better, you can tinker with it if you need to,” Jax says with a nod. “We’re all happy to help. We just want you to get better.” They smile a little. “Maureen’s making you… maruya? I think that’s how you say it. It’s like a fried banana thing, it’s Filipino. She’ll bring some in tomorrow.” Their smile widens. “She made me a vegan version a couple of weeks back, it’s really good.”

 

“That’s really nice of her,” Connor says with a grin. “She must really like you.” He’s not too sore to tease Jax a little about the weird and adorable flirting that’s going on between them and Maureen. 

 

Jax’s face turns pink. “She’s been trying to get more into cooking recently,” they say, like it’s an explanation. “Especially Filipino recipes.” Their face falls a little. “Her mom is Filipino. Maureen said that just because she doesn’t talk to her family anymore doesn’t mean she’s going to turn her back on her heritage.” 

 

Connor nods, feeling his own smile fade. “Yeah. That makes sense.” He sighs. “Man, fuck Maureen’s family.”

 

“Yeah,” says Jax, nodding emphatically, frowning. They laugh a little. “I kind of want to punch them? Like, I feel like if I’m ever in the same place with them, I’d just… lose it and punch them.” They roll their eyes. “Always thought I was a pacifist, but… fuck.”

 

Connor nods. “I can relate.”

 

Connor closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again his mom is sitting next to him in bed, reading quietly, and Edgar is still purring on his shoulder. He hates this feeling of missing time, this realization that he’s been basically passed out for who knows how long, but it’s better than being somewhere else. 

 

It’s better than being in the universe where Evan…

 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

 

“Sore,” Connor admits. “I just kind of keep falling asleep, it’s embarrassing.”

 

“You’re recovering from surgery,” says his mother, her voice sympathetic. “Sleep will help.” She looks at her watch. “Looks like you’re due for some more pain relief. And you should eat something with it.”

 

“What time is it?” Connor asks, frowning a little. 

 

“Just after 2,” says his mom, brushing his hair off his face and kissing his forehead. “But don’t worry about that. Just take the time you need to sleep.”

 

“I was going to put on the slow cooker,” Connor says, suddenly remembering. “I forgot. There’s a bowl in the fridge with everything in it ready to go, I can just put it in now for dinner.” He pulls the covers back and struggles to his feet, despite his mother’s protests, and makes his way gingerly to the kitchen. 

 

Cynthia insists on taking the bowl out of the fridge and putting it in the slow cooker, which Connor has to admit is for the best since he doesn’t think he’d be able to hold anything even slightly heavy without dropping it right now.  He does however have to talk her through putting the slow cooker on, because despite all her culinary experiments growing up she’s never actually used a slow cooker, which surprises him a little. But he’s done all the prep work and nothing smells or looks like it’s gone bad in the last few days, so he figures it’ll be okay. 

 

Not that Connor’s really hungry, but the whole reason he’d prepped the meal in the first place was because Evan was in the middle of this huge case and he’d wanted to make sure he ate something substantial, because he’d been so stressed out and busy and...

 

Fuck. 

 

Evan’s case. 

 

Fuck fuck fuck, Evan probably hasn’t slept much in the last few days, if at all, and he’s got this huge case about… fish? It’s about fish. Something to do with fish. Connor can’t remember, his brain is all fuzzy and mixed up, but he knows that it’s… something to do with fish and fishing and Evan’s been so busy, so stressed, practicing his arguments in front of Edgar and up late researching and… fuck. 

 

He can feel his breathing start to get irregular and dimly recognizes he’s having another panic attack, which is just what he needs right now, fuck fuck fuck, and his mom somehow manages to get him back into bed and talks him through getting his breathing back on track and he manages to take his pain medication and an antibiotic before falling back to sleep. 

 

When Connor next opens his eyes, Evan’s there, changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt quietly, and he just watches for a moment, feeling something inside him unclench a little. Something he hadn’t even realized was tense. 

 

He’s just… really fucking happy to see Evan, alive and well. 

 

Well… alive, at least. Connor can tell just how fucking drained Evan is even though he’s not facing him. It’s all there in the way he carries himself, the sag of his shoulders, like exhaustion has permeated every inch of him. 

 

“Hey,” Connor says, hoping his voice carries enough for Evan to hear him. 

 

Evan turns around immediately and something in his face relaxes. At the same time, his shoulders steady, pull back, like he’s trying to hold himself together, like he’s trying to stay strong for Connor. 

 

Connor wishes he wouldn’t. Wishes he didn’t feel like he had to.

 

Evan sits on the edge of Connor’s bed and kisses him softly. “How are you feeling?” he asks. 

 

“Sore,” Connor admits. “How are you? How are the fish?”

 

Evan looks puzzled. “What?”

 

“The fish,” Connor says, frustrated with himself that he can’t really remember what the fuck Evan’s case was about, because he likes knowing what it is that Evan’s doing, likes having an idea of what’s going on in Evan’s life, but he’s drawing a blank because he’s an idiot who managed to get appendicitis and maybe it’s not even fish. “It was fish, right? Your case… there were… fish.” His voice trails off as he finishes and he’s horribly embarrassed. 

 

Evan smiles a little. “The fish are going to be fine,” he says gently, taking Connor’s hand and rubbing his thumb across the knuckles. 

 

Connor can feel that Evan’s hand is shaking a little, just little tremors but enough for him to notice, and that his cuticles are bleeding, and it breaks his heart to know that they’re his fault. He goes to lean over to get the cuticle cream out of the dresser by his bed, which turns out to be a bad idea with the whole surgery business and lets out an involuntary yelp of pain. Evan steadies him immediately and Connor falls back against the pillows, feeling his face burn with embarrassment and shame as Evan’s face goes tight and pale with worry again. 

 

“What do you need?” Evan asks softly. 

 

“Cuticle cream,” Connor says weakly. “For you. You’re… I’m sorry you’re… I just wanted to help.”

 

Evan kisses him. “And I love that about you,” he says gently. “The way you always want to help. But you don’t need to worry about me right now. You need to focus on getting better.”

 

“Just let me do this,” Connor insists, and Evan blinks a few times then nods. He reaches into the drawer and hands Connor the cuticle cream, his face turning a little pink. He pulls back his shoulders again, like he’s trying to brace himself, then gently, reluctantly gives Connor his hand. 

 

Connor focuses on putting a little bit of cuticle cream on each of Evan’s fingers, rubbing it in gently and pulling Evan’s hand to his mouth to kiss the knuckles softly before taking his other hand. When he’s done, Evan takes the tube of cream and puts it back in the dresser, his face still pink, and Connor wants to pull him into a tight hug, the tightest hug imaginable, but he knows he can’t do it right now. 

 

Evan settles in next to him on the bed and something occurs to Connor. “You… you weren’t here last night, were you?”

 

Evan looks puzzled. “I was here. Of course I was here.”

 

Connor tries to explain. “No, you… you weren’t  _ here,  _ in bed with me.”

 

Evan’s face softens. He shakes his head and kisses Connor on the cheek. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says softly. “You know how clingy I am in my sleep.”

 

“Stay tonight,” Connor says immediately, taking Evan’s hand and squeezing it. “Please?”

 

Evan looks hesitant. “I don’t know if that’s-”

 

“Just stay,” Connor interrupts, trying not to sound like he’s panicking but he just… really needs this. “I just need to know you’re safe, please stay.”

 

Evan looks scared for a moment, scared and confused and so, so so tired. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

 

Connor feels himself tense up. “I had my appendix out,” he says, trying to sound reasonable. 

 

Evan shakes his head. “No. It’s something else and you’re not telling me.” He squeezes Connor’s hand. “Please just  _ tell me.” _

 

Connor feels his eyes start to well up with tears and he’s horrified, he’s so pissed off at himself, because whatever the hell happened, whether it was a bad dream or a parallel universe, Evan doesn’t need this right now. Evan does  _ not _ need to know that Connor was at his funeral, that Connor saw his parents and his roommates and his ex-girlfriend grieve, that Connor saw him step off the roof. 

 

That Connor couldn’t stop him. 

 

That Connor  _ followed _ him, trying desperately to save him and failing. 

 

Evan squeezes his hand tighter. Reaches out and smoothes back his hair. “Connor. Please. Talk to me.”

 

“I…”

 

There’s a knock on the bedroom door. Evan sighs, then gets up and opens the door to let in Connor’s mom, who looks apologetic. “I was trying to put on the rice but I can’t figure out how your rice cooker works.”

 

Connor wipes his face. “I’ll show you,” he volunteers, pulling back the covers, only for Evan to pull them right back over him again. 

 

“No you won’t,” Evan says firmly. “Stay in bed, I’ve got this.” He leans in and kisses Connor softly on the cheek, then squeezes his hand again and heads out into the kitchen, leaving the door open so Connor can see them. 

 

So Connor knows he’s not alone. 

 

Connor takes a shuddering breath and lays back on the pillows. He’s shaking a little, and everything feels sharp and unreal, and he focuses on the feel of the blankets, on Edgar purring by his shoulder, on this reality. 

 

This is where he belongs. 

 

This is where he  _ has _ to stay.

 

* * *

Evan woke up to his alarm sounding at about six thirty and once he switched it off, had a long minute where he contemplated whether he really needed to keep his job because he was still exhausted. 

He’d slept poorly, struggling to get comfortable and having strange dreams about funerals and gravestones and feeling guiltily like he ought to call his Grandma Norah this week, just to say hi. 

Evan slowly got up. Stretched. Dragged himself through a shower and brushed his teeth, then quietly headed to the kitchen. He made some coffee then crept into Connor’s bedroom to get dressed so that Cynthia didn’t happen upon him in a towel running around Connor’s apartment. Back in the kitchen, Evan had some toast with peanut butter and coffee and sluggishly read his emails (including one from Jonathan at four am, which did not bode well for how the day would go). 

When it was nearly time for Evan to leave he realized he’d forgotten to grab a tie and let himself quietly into Connor’s room to grab one, trying it in his bedroom mirror, then taking a few minutes to straighten it properly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Evan spotted Connor moving and opening his eyes. Evan turned around to look at Connor and sighed, relieved, because he looked a lot better than he had. 

“Hey, Connor said, his voice quiet. 

“Hey,” Evan returned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed beside Connor and giving him a soft kiss. “How are you feeling?”

Connor frowned a little. “Not awesome. But it’s… it’s like a dull pain rather than a sharp pain now, which is good, I guess.” Connor stopped, sighing. He looked sad when he looked at Evan next.  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Evan tried to smile but all he could hear was Connor, out of it in the hospital, apologizing and apologizing and begging to stay. He tried to flick the thought away, but it held onto him. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, Connor.”

“If it had been you in hospital, I’d be freaking out,” Connor said, like it was that simple. He started pulling back the covers of his bed. 

“What are you doing?”

“Going to get a glass of water.”

Fuck no he was not doing that, Evan thought. “Stay there,” Evan said, frowning. “I’ll get it for you, I’ll just be a minute.” 

Evan walked to the kitchen, finding Cynthia there and pouring herself some coffee. He filled a glass with water for Connor, explaining to her that Connor was awake and then, checking the time, figured he was better off calling Jonathan now rather than waiting to see him in person. 

Evan pulled his phone out and dialed Jonathan.

“Hansen if you’re running late -”

“I’m not,” Evan said shortly, eyeing the time. He still had thirty minutes to leave and be thirty minutes early for court. “I need some time off after this ends.”

“Bullshit you do.”

“I’m serious. I have personal stuff that I need to deal with, and I need a few days at least.”

“No way.”

“At least time I can work from home,” Evan tried again.

“Fuck me Hansen, you win this case for me and we’ll talk about it.”

“The case is practically in the bag already,” Evan said with a sigh. “I need to be here with Connor, I need at least a couple of days-”

Jonathan started bitching again but Evan didn’t hear him because Cynthia’s eyes went big and she hurried to Connor’s bedroom. Evan followed her, seeing from the doorway that Connor was breathing raggedly, his eyes too big and too scared fuck fuck fuck. 

“Jonathan I’ll talk to you later,” Evan said shortly, ending the call. He hurried to Connor’s side, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb over Connor’s knuckles, trying to help him calm down, saying softly, “Hey, you’re okay.”

“Sorry,” Connor breathed, still sort of gasping for air. “I… you were… you’re okay?”

Fuck, Evan hated that he hated it and he wondered again just what the fuck had happened to make Connor so worried about him. “I’m okay,” Evan said gently, still holding Connor’s hand, still trying to communicate that he was real and solid. “I have to get to court, but this is hopefully the last day I’ve got a court appearance.” He kissed Connor’s cheek softly. “I was just talking to my boss. Trying to negotiate a little bit of time off, or at least being able to work from home the next couple of days.”

“That sounds good,” Cynthia said and Evan sort of forgot she was there because when Connor was in a room, he captured every ounce of Evan’s attention.  “You must be exhausted, Evan. Going to court after spending all night in hospital with your partner who’s had emergency surgery should get you some brownie points, but I know what lawyers are like.” 

Evan tried to smile at her but then Edgar had jumped up onto the bed, hurrying toward Connor and Evan almost snatched the cat up, almost refused to let him near Connor because Edgar had been making biscuits on Evan’s stomach for a while this morning before dawn and the last thing Connor needed with a surgical incision on his stomach was a cat pressing against it trying to play or cuddle. 

But Edgar is a good cat, and instead of climbing Connor like his own personal Everest, he walks beside Connor and curls up near Connor’s shoulder, purring. Evan relaxed. 

“Hey buddy,” Connor said, scratching Edgar’s ears.  “I missed you.”

“He was so worried about you,” Evan said, suddenly remembering. “He yowled his little head off when I showed up to let me know something was wrong, and he wouldn’t stop crying when the paramedics came. Jax said he didn’t stop crying for hours after we left in the ambulance, poor thing.” He kissed Connor’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Connor leaned over, kissing Evan. “Or you.” Connor looked sheepishly at his mom. “Or you, either. Fuck, this is embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Cynthia said, kissing Connor’s cheek. 

Evan checked his watch and frowned. “I have to go,” Evan said, reluctant to leave Connor who was lucid for the first time in days. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can be, okay? I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Connor said back, and Evan couldn’t help it, he had to kiss Connor. A few times. Then a few more, for good measure. He waved from the door as he left, sighing to himself, trying to prepare for the long day ahead. 

As Evan predicted, he and Jonathan won the fishing waste case easily. Evan had to watch Jonathan close, and honestly, he thought his closer was better, but he kept his mouth shut because he just wanted to be done. When the jury came back about an hour after they left, Evan felt something inside him relax, finally, because it meant he could just focus on Connor now that this was finished. 

Jonathan shook Evan’s hand enthusiastically, and in his excitement, agreed Evan could work from home the rest of the week and part of the next, provided he still came in for staff meetings. Evan figured he would take it. 

Evan made his way back to Connor’s apartment, feeling himself start to sag a little with exhaustion, with the effort of holding himself up, keeping himself together. While he rode the subway back to the bookstore, Evan composed an email to Marcia, asking if she could squeeze him in for a phone session this week maybe? He didn’t want to leave Connor if he could help it. 

When he returned to the apartment, Cynthia was sitting in the living room and something was clearly cooking in the slow cooker. Evan looked at her, not wanting to say “Connor said you can’t cook,” but hoping she might read his confused expression. 

“Connor had already prepped it. And insisted on helping me put it in there for later.”

“He shouldn’t be up,” Evan said awkwardly. 

“I know. Sent him back to bed almost immediately.”

“Good.”

“You look dead on your feet, Evan,” Cynthia said gently. 

“I’m alright. Might go and change, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” She said. “Pretend I’m not even here. Oh, and your mom would like you to give her a call later if you can.”

“Okay.”

Evan headed into Connor’s bedroom, keeping quiet as he did. He pulled some clean clothes out of his dresser, a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and he slowly changed out of his suit and hung it up in the closet. He stooped to pull on his pajamas, his shoulders and back aching and Evan had to fight the urge to just forget everything else and crawl into bed with Connor, curl himself around him and refuse to move until he was healed. 

But that was the crazy, illogical part of his brain and he knew doing that actually had more potential for harm than good. 

So Evan finished changing, thinking he would send a few emails and see if he could help Cynthia with dinner somehow (he couldn’t do much but he was able to use the rice cooker, thank you very much) when he heard Connor’s voice saying “Hey” behind him. He felt his heart skid to a halt for just a moment, then turned around to face Connor, straightening himself out so it looked less like he was falling apart and hurrying to sit on the edge of the bed, to kiss him, to say hi back. 

“How are you feeling?” Evan asked. 

“Sore,” Connor said, frowning a little.. “How are you? How are the fish?”

Evan didn’t know what that meant. He blinked a few times, confused, then said, “What?”

Connor frowned. “The fish,” he tried again, sounding exasperated. “It was fish, right? Your case… there were… fish.” Connor looked away, sounding embarrassed and Evan just loved him so much he didn’t know what to say. He was looped on pain meds and recovering from surgery but asking about Evan’s work, about his case. 

Fuck he just loved him so much. 

He smiled at Connor. “The fish are going to be fine,” he said, holding Connor’s hand and tracing the bumps of Connor’s knuckles with the pad of his thumb, trying to keep it together, act like a calm and rational person. 

But Connor knew he wasn’t alright because Connor always knew. And Evan wasn’t as good as he used to be at hiding it. 

Connor tried to lean over to grab something out of his nightstand, but he yelped and fell back against his pillows, his face heating up.

Evan tried to take a steadying breath, tried not to totally freak out. “What do you need?”

“Cuticle cream. For you.” Evan felt his face burn. “You’re… I’m sorry you’re… I just wanted to help.”

God, Connor was too nice, too much, too kind. “And I love that about you,” he tried to say, but his voice was kind of rough and awkward. “The way you always want to help. But you don’t need to worry about me right now. You need to focus on getting better.”

“Just let me do this,” Connor pressed, his eyes pleading. 

And Evan would do anything for Connor, so despite how embarrassed and useless the whole process made him feel, he nodded and went into the drawer to give the tube of cream to Connor. In his mind’s eye, Evan was throwing that out of the window, he was kissing Connor to distract him, he was not sitting here letting his sick boyfriend take care of his stupid cuticles. 

But Connor usually felt better if he felt like he was actually doing something, so Evan straightened his shoulders, bracing himself, and he gave Connor his hand. Connor worked gently to rub a little of the cuticle cream into each of Evan’s fingers, and Evan tried his best to stay steady, stay smiling, stay with Connor here instead of retreating inward and pretending this whole mortifying ordeal wasn’t happening. 

What was that quote he had heard before? Marcia liked it, she said it all of the time when Evan tried to beat himself up over the things he wanted to hide from Connor but couldn’t…

_ “If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” _

Fuck that noise, in Evan’s opinion. He didn’t want to submit to anything mortifying. Two years ago, he wasn’t even comfortable with the idea of being known in passing…

But Connor knew him and Evan wanted to let him.

Even though it was mortifying even though he was embarrassed, he wanted Connor to know him so he let him in. So Evan let Connor put cuticle cream on his fingers and he let Connor kiss his knuckles and he resisted the urge to just pull Connor in tightly, to hold him close because that might hurt him and the last thing Evan wanted to do was hurt him. 

He took the tube of cuticle cream back from Connor and put it back in Connor’s bedside drawer before rounding the bed and settling in beside Connor. 

“You… you weren’t here last night, were you?” Connor asked suddenly. 

Evan blinked in surprise. “I was here. Of course I was here.”

Connor shook his head, trying again, “No, you… you weren’t here, in bed with me.”

“Oh,” Evan said quietly. He shook his head, then kissed Connor’s cheek.  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” He tried to explain, tried to reassure Connor that he was here, he was close by all night, but had made sure Connor had the bed to himself so that he could sleep and recover and not be bumped or prodded in his sleep. “You know how clingy I am in my sleep.” It was true. When he was asleep, Evan tended to wind himself around Connor like a vine. 

“Stay tonight,” Connor took Evan’s hand and squeezed it. “Please?”

“I don’t know if that’s-”

“Just stay,” Connor said, his voice tight and thin and he sounded worried, he sounded scared. “I just need to know you’re safe, please stay.”

Evan took a shaky breath because there it was again. That fear that he could feel rolling off of Connor since he first got sick. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Connor tensed beside him, “I had my appendix out.” He said it flippantly,  _ like yeah, obviously Evan, that’s what’s going on.  _

Evan shook his head, refusing to buy that. “No. It’s something else and you’re not telling me.” Evan squeezed Connor’s hand. “Please just tell me.”

To Evan’s absolute horror, he watched Connor’s eyes fill up with tears, his nose and cheeks start to get red and Evan felt helpless and terrified because he didn’t know what was happening and he hated it he hated it so much. 

Evan squeezed Connor’s hand tighter. Reached out to push some of his hair out of his face, tuck a strand behind one of Connor’s adorably big ears. “Connor. Please. Talk to me.”

“I…”

Someone knocked on Connor’s bedroom door. Evan sighed, getting up and letting Cynthia inside. She looked very sheepish and said, awkwardly, “I was trying to put on the rice but I can’t figure out how your rice cooker works.”

Connor smiled, almost. “I’ll show you,” He said, wiping his face and pulling back the covers. 

Evan reached out and put them back over Connor. He wasn’t going to let him get up and cook, for fuck’s sake. “No you won’t. Stay in bed, I’ve got this.” He kissed Connor’s cheek, squeezed his hand again, and got up. He followed Cynthia out of the room, leaving the door open a crack so Connor could still see and hear him, and then set about explaining to Cynthia, to the best of his ability, how to use the rice cooker. Connor had to show him several times, and his first attempt had ended badly with sort of soupy rice mush, but Evan had the hang of it now and did his best to be patient to Cynthia because she didn’t know she was interrupting Connor’s thought, interrupting what Evan was sure was an important thing his boyfriend had to say. 

Cynthia apologized several times for interrupting and Evan wasn’t sure if it was worse if she knew she had walked into the middle of a potentially emotional conversation or if she thought maybe they were having sex. But Evan knew that was off the table for at least three to five days if not longer, it depended on the person healing, and he knew this because Alex had texted him unprompted yesterday. 

Which he appreciated he supposed. It was worth knowing. 

Evan focused on helping Cynthia finish making dinner and brought a plate in to Connor when it was finished. He and Connor and Cynthia all ate dinner in Connor’s room, Evan beside Connor and Cynthia sitting in the armchair. They made quiet conversations, Evan explaining his case to them, Cynthia talking a little about a book she was reading, and Connor mostly sitting quietly and petting Edgar. 

After dinner, Connor looked embarrassed but he mumbled that he really wanted to take a shower and Evan had happily agreed to assist him in that task. Connor moved slowly, gingerly to the bathroom and reluctantly let Evan help him to undress and wash his hair. 

“This is mortifying,” He muttered, holding onto the sex railing to keep himself upright. 

“I know,” Evan said, trying to be gentle as he helped Connor put conditioner into his long hair. “But don’t worry. Once you’re recovered? I’ll blow you in this shower every day. Put the memory of this so far out of your mind you won’t even think to remember it.”

Connor grinned at him, turning and giving Evan a chaste kiss. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”   


“I want you to.”

Evan did stay in Connor’s room that night, which seemed to help Connor relax a little. He stayed up a while, sending a few emails, and texting with his mom and with Sabrina, updating them on how Connor was doing. His mom sent some encouraging words and reminded Evan to get some sleep, which he appreciated. Sabrina promised to bring by muffins after school the next day. 

Not too long after Connor went to sleep, Evan did as well. He was really exhausted, and he lay on his side and held Connor’s hand and did his best to sleep. 


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is where we’re supposed to be, where you and I are supposed to be, and I’m keeping you here, okay? I’m keeping you.”

“Please don’t do this, Evan, I can’t… I can’t let you do this. I _love_ you.”

 

“You don’t love me.”

 

“But I do. I do, _fuck,_ Evan, I love you more than anything, please don’t do this-”

 

“I don’t even know you.”

 

Connor knows he’s not there he knows he knows but he can see it all, see it all like he’s watching from above, and it’s not the same as being there, it’s not the same but it still hurts. It still hurts to see Evan with his dead, hopeless eyes, looking at him like he doesn’t know him, like he doesn’t see him, and as he hovers above the scene, he can see that he’s not really there. 

 

The other him isn’t really there. He’s blinking out of reality, in and out, like a bad hologram, fading in and out like a ghost, like an apparition, like someone trapped between realities. But he looks terrified, he looks pale, he looks sick and he looks helpless, and Connor is terrified, too. 

 

He can’t watch this again, he can’t watch this again, he can’t he can’t he can’t...

 

But it just keeps playing out, the way it did - the way it _didn’t,_ not really. It’s like everything’s melting together, like everything is happening all at once, and he’s everywhere and nowhere at once. 

 

There’s a Connor holding onto Evan’s arm desperately, holding on tight, his grip vice-like, and Evan’s face is dull and hopeless and blank and dead but he flinches a little, flinches like it’s real, like it’s really happening. 

 

“You felt that, didn’t you? It’s proof. Proof that I’m real.”

 

And there’s a Connor whose arm goes right through, and an Evan who just looks at him, so utterly defeated, and it breaks his heart, it crushes it into tiny pieces. 

 

“You’re in my mind, you’re in my imagination, you can’t… you’re not real, it’s so obvious that you’re not real, and if you’re not real that means that I’ve finally lost it, like I always knew I would. I’ve lost touch with reality, I’ve… I’ve always known it would end like this. It was always going to end like this, it was always going to be like this. I am _always_ going to be like this.”

 

The other Evan looks at the Connor whose arm has a firm grip. 

 

“This is just delaying the inevitable, it was always going to be like this. I am _always_ going to be like this.”

 

Connor watches in horror as both Evans step off the roof of the building. 

 

As both Connors stand there and do nothing. 

 

Why isn’t he doing anything? Why isn’t he moving? He’s doing nothing he does nothing he did nothing Evan died Evan killed himself and Connor was there and he did nothing he did nothing it’s his fault it’s his fault it’s all his fault this is his fault -

 

“Connor! Connor, wake up, it’s not real, you’re just dreaming it’s okay, I’m here it’s okay please just wake up, wake up!”

 

He opens his eyes to the light of his bedside lamp and Evan’s face, pale and terrified. There’s a sharp pain in his stomach and he feels sick, he feels like he might throw up, he…

 

Connor can’t help but burst into tears, feeling his whole body shake with sobs, sending ripples of pain through him, and he knows this can’t be good for him, he knows he has to get a hold of himself, he knows it’s okay it’s okay but he can’t he can’t he can’t -

 

Evan wraps his arms around him and strokes his back, holding him tight, telling him he loves him, not letting go until he finally, finally stops shaking. Connor feels his entire body go slack, like he’s run out of energy, like there’s nothing left, and he thinks he’s going to drift off for a moment but he can’t go back there, he can’t he can’t he can’t, he couldn’t bear it, he has to stay he has to stay he has to stay -

 

“You can stay,” Evan says, his voice shaky but still strong. “Connor, you can stay. You’re okay. You’re here, and I’m here, and… you can stay.”

 

Connor lets Evan help him sit up, trying not to show how much fucking pain he’s in, but Evan’s always been observant, he doesn’t miss this sort of thing, and soon he’s passing Connor a bottle of water and some painkillers, helping him take him, smoothing back his hair. 

 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says, hating how his voice still shakes. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, you must be exhausted, I-”

 

“You have to tell me what’s going on.”

 

Connor feels his eyes tear up immediately. He shakes his head. 

 

Evan takes his hand and squeezes it tightly. “Please,” he says, pleads, and Evan’s voice is shaking, too. “I can’t help if I don’t know. What happened?”

 

“Bad dreams,” Connor manages to choke out. 

 

Evan looks at him for a long, long time before responding. “Bullshit.” He steels himself, like he’s preparing to argue. “Bullshit they were just dreams, Connor - you and I both know that what happened to us two years ago wasn’t a dream, it was real. And you… you don’t speak Hebrew.”

 

“Alav ha-shalom,” Connor says wearily, his voice quiet to his own ears. “Mr. Abrahamson said it, he… he looked so sad, he…”

 

Evan’s grip on his hand tightens. “Where _were_ you?”

 

“Somewhere else,” Connor says, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t want to say this, he doesn’t want to explain this, he doesn’t want to put Evan through the pain, but he’s too tired to argue, he’s too tired. “The… the reality where you jumped, Evan. Where you…”

 

His eyes flood with tears and he feels himself start shaking. Evan lets out this strangled, choking noise and then his arms are around him. 

 

Evan’s voice is soft but firm when he finally speaks again. “Tell me what you saw.”

 

* * *

Connor scared the hell out of Evan, crying out in his sleep and then immediately bursting into horrible, heartbreaking sobs and Evan felt like his heart was being torn from his chest, he felt like he was being hit by a bus, falling down a million manholes, stepping out into the air and crashing into a sidewalk. 

He kept trying to soothe Connor, trying to convince him he could stay, whatever that meant, trying to get him to breathe and calm down and stop crying. 

“Please,” Evan begged Connor, pleaded, his voice shaking and scared and sad. “I can’t help if I don’t know. What happened?” 

“Bad dreams,” Connor mumbled, and he was _lying_. 

He was fucking lying to Evan’s face and Evan hated it so much he could cry. He looked at Connor, a long searching look, hoping Connor would explain, give him a better reason and after a long time, he realized Connor wasn’t going to tell him something. “Bullshit.” Evan said, squaring his shoulders. “Bullshit they were just dreams, Connor - you and I both know that what happened to us two years ago wasn’t a dream, it was real.” He took a breath, a pause, and hammered in his point. “And you… you don’t speak Hebrew.”

“Alav ha-shalom,” Connor said, almost whispering, and it was like he was lost, like he was only half there. “Mr. Abrahamson said it, he… he looked so sad, he…”

Evan squeezed Connor’s hand tighter, the words not making sense in his ears, not making any fucking sense at all. “Where _were_ you?”

“Somewhere else,” Connor said softly, his voice strained. He shook his head, like he didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to explain himself but Evan couldn’t allow that, he couldn’t let it stand. He was about to argue when Connor finally went on. “The… the reality where you jumped, Evan. Where you…”

Connor started to cry, shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks and Evan hated it. 

He hated it. 

He barely managed to cut off the sob creeping its way up his throat, barely managed to choke it down as he wrapped his arms around Connor, firm but not too tight, trying to convince him that he wasn’t there, he wasn’t in that version of reality, he was _here_ , he was here with Evan, who didn’t jump, who loved him. Connor just cried and he looked so fucking sad, so defeated and exhausted and Evan wanted so badly to fix it to take that pain away because Connor didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve to feel that way, he didn’t deserve this shitty situation at all. 

Evan took a few breaths, trying to keep himself steady, trying to hold it together but struggling because what did you say to someone who had existed, however briefly, in a place where you had died, where you had killed yourself and left them alone. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I don’t want to,” Connor said softly, wiping his eyes, still shaking and it had to hurt it had to be hurting him to be moving so much, to be sitting like this. “I don’t…”

“Connor _please_.”

Evan couldn’t do anything if he didn’t know, he couldn’t do anything without information, without a better sense of what happened and Connor kept shaking his head, kept crying. 

“I can’t. I can’t do that to you.”

Evan held on a little bit tighter, he tried to keep his voice as steady as he could, he tried his best to look like someone who was equipped to handle this. “Connor…” He said gently, pleading with Connor even though, in his core, Evan wasn’t sure he could handle it. He wasn’t sure the information wouldn’t hurt him too much, he couldn’t be positive he would survive it but he couldn’t let Connor go through it alone. Not when he already had. Not anymore.  “I love you. I want to help you because I can tell you’re in pain but I can’t do anything like this. I can’t do anything until I know. I can’t let you go through this alone. Please, tell me what you saw.”

Connor took a shuddering breath. He wiped his face. 

“You. When you were sick, before the hospital. You said something, something about Facebook?” Evan tried, his voice gentle. “You said Facebook said I was dead?”

Connor nodded, eyes cast down, still taking short hiccuping breaths. 

“You hate Facebook. How did you find that out?” Evan asked him, rubbing his hand up the side of Connor’s arm, trying to be reassuring, to communicate “you’re safe you’re safe I’m going to keep you safe” through his touch. 

“I woke up. In my old place. With, uh. Margot and Eddie? And it was. The day after my birthday. My twenty-seventh birthday.” 

Evan nodded, feeling his blood go cold. He had wondered, he had figured but he hadn’t… he hadn’t known for sure. It made sense that it would pull him back two years ago, to when the loops had happened… If it was possible for something this fucked up to make sense, that was what made the most sense. “Okay.”

“Andi was there, and so was… Zoe was there too? She’d stayed over, I think and. She said I had been on a lot of drugs the night before.”

Evan nodded again, because that followed, that checked. He didn’t like it, Evan sort of hated it, but two years ago it made sense for Connor to have spent his birthday getting high with Eddie and Margot. “And then what happened?”

“I knew… I knew something was wrong,” Connor said. “I went to text you and I didn’t have your number.”

“Right.” Because during the loops they had to use Facebook to communicate, because the numbers would just reset, because they couldn’t save anything from loop to loop, not willingly. Connor always found Evan on Facebook, always messaged him there. “So you went on Facebook?” Evan prompted. 

Connor’s eyes filled with tears again. “There were just. All of these posts and-and comments? About you. About how you…”

“Died,” Evan said, nodding to himself, swallowing hard. Because Connor had been somewhere where he had died and stayed dead. He had gone somewhere and Evan hadn’t been with him and he had to deal with that alone and it was all because Evan had killed himself. Had jumped and made it stick. He felt… horrible. Stupid and selfish and just gutted to think of the pain he must have caused, the pain he was only barely starting to grasp now two years later. “They were about how I died. Right?”

“Yeah,” Connor said. “Fuck, they were awful. Generic and fake and. None of them said anything real, you know? None of them… none of them knew you.”

Evan took a breath, shaky and uneven but he was taking it. He was handling it. So nobody really knew him. That made sense. Two years ago he didn’t have friends, full stop. He barely spoke to people. A handful of acquaintances, a newly engaged ex-girlfriend, two roommates he rarely spoke to, but no friends. If he had died two years ago… well, generic Facebook posts probably would have been all he could have expected. 

“Was it just that?” Evan asked, knowing already that it couldn’t be, that there was no way Connor was this shaken up over some Facebook posts but hoping, just a little, that maybe that was all it was. He gently smoothed a hand over Connor’s hair, rubbed slow circles into his back and shoulders, praying it wasn’t worse, praying it wasn’t any worse for him even though he knew better. 

Connor shook his head. 

And Evan braced himself. 

 

* * *

Connor shakes his head. Watches as Evan sets his shoulders like he’s preparing for an attack, and Connor hates it, he hates it he hates it he hates it he doesn’t want to do this he doesn’t want to be the one to hurt him like this. 

 

But he’s so tired. He’s so tired of carrying it alone. 

 

And he knows Evan. He knows he won’t let this go. 

 

“It wasn’t… time didn’t move the way it was supposed to,” he tries to explain, trying to make it make some kind of fucking sense. “I went to your apartment, and I saw Mr. Abrahamson and he said… he said…”

 

“Alav ha-shalom,” says Evan quietly, squeezing Connor’s hand again. “And you asked me what it meant. You… you came back then, right? You… you asked me if I was really here.” Evan swallows visibly. “Do you… do you remember what I said? I tried to tell you, I…”

 

“I didn’t hear you,” Connor admits, feeling himself start to shake again. “One moment I was in the ambulance with you, the next I was… in a cemetery. With your mom.” He bites his lip hard, hard enough to hurt, trying to pull himself together. “Peace be upon him. That’s what she said.” He shudders involuntarily. “She asked if I knew you, and I told her that I loved you, that I was sorry, that I… that I should have been there.” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 

When Connor finally lets himself look Evan in the eye, he can see that Evan’s face is blotchy, that his eyes are damp, and he hates it he hates it he hates it he made this happen he hates it so fucking much. 

 

“You saw my mom,” Evan repeats, his voice still quiet. “At the cemetery.” He squeezes Connor’s hand. “Connor, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry you had to see that.” He closes his eyes for a long moment, then opens them. “Did you… what else?”

 

Connor bites his lip again. “Evan, I can’t.”

 

“You can. You have to. Please.”

 

Connor keeps chewing on his lip, trying to distract himself from the shaking and the pain in his abdomen and his chest. “Then I was at a synagogue,” he says finally, feeling the words spilling out of him like if he says them quickly, they might hurt less. “Your mom was there and I’m pretty sure it was your dad, and another woman and a little girl, and everyone stood up and said a prayer, it must have been Hebrew, it was like they were singing it.” He tries to remember. “It was… they all knew it, they all sang it together, all of them.” He swallows. “There weren’t enough people there. Not enough for… it was your funeral, Evan, it had to be.” 

 

Evan takes in a sharp, choking breath, and Connor hangs his head in shame. He feels himself shaking more and more, and it hurts it hurts it hurts but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as his heart does right now, he feels like he’s being stabbed, like he’s drowning, like he’s dying, and he knows how it feels to die. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, barely getting the words out. “Evan, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I-”

 

“It isn’t your fault,” Evan says, almost snaps, and his voice is shaking. “None of this is your fault, Connor.” 

 

Connor knows that isn’t true. 

 

He knows that isn’t true, deep in his bones. 

 

Because he was there. 

 

He was there, and he did nothing. 

 

Something occurs to him. 

 

“Jared Kleinman is going bald.”

 

Evan looks straight at him, a look of surprise on his face. “How… he was there?” Connor nods miserably. Evan shudders a little. “Fuck.” His face twists into what Connor thinks is supposed to be a smile but doesn’t work. “I knew there was a reason he started wearing all those douchey hats in his Facebook pictures.” 

 

“Gross,” Connor mutters. 

 

They both let out laughs that don’t quite land. Evan grips Connor’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry. Connor, I’m sorry.” He takes in a deep breath. “I can’t… I can’t imagine how that… fuck, if it had been you, if I’d had to watch your funeral I… I couldn’t…” 

 

“Time moved around a lot,” Connor says after it becomes obvious that Evan’s not going to continue his thought. “I… I wasn’t always really there, I can’t explain it… sometimes people saw me, like when your mom was packing up your room, but other times… it was like I was invisible.” He swallows hard. “When I saw Sabrina at your grave. And Alex and Mattie at the apartment, trying to figure out what to do with your room. They didn’t see me, couldn’t see me, but they were… they were all just devastated. Completely wrecked.” 

 

“Fuck,” says Evan, his face deathly pale. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god.”

 

“I wanted to spare you this,” Connor blurts out, feeling his voice shake. “I wanted… fuck, I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want you to know this, you shouldn’t _have_ to know this, it’s not… it didn’t happen to you, you shouldn’t have to know, I shouldn’t have told you, I knew it would hurt you, I’m so sorry-”

 

“No,” says Evan firmly, frowning a little. “No, you don’t… you don’t have to do this alone, Connor. You’re not alone. I won’t let you be alone.”

 

 _You’re not alone, Evan, you’re not alone and_ I won’t let you be alone, _I won’t, I won’t, I can’t let you-_

 

Connor can’t stop himself from crumbling at those words, dissolving into tears, shaking sobs that rip right through him, leaving him breathless and gasping for air, and he can’t tell where the pain is, his stomach or his chest, because this hurts, it hurts so fucking much. 

 

Evan’s hugging him now, wrapping his arms around him, telling him he loves him, and Connor wants this conversation to be over, he wants it to be over, he wants to save Evan from what happens next. 

 

He knows that if he doesn’t tell him, it’ll tear him apart inside, but he can handle that if he has to, he can _handle_ it if it means that Evan - 

 

“What happened after that?” Evan asks, his voice ragged. 

 

Connor closes his eyes tight. 

 

* * *

Evan shook, trembling from head to toe, holding on to Connor and trying his best to be gentle, trying not to hurt him but he was hurting him he was hurting Connor by making him tell this, he was hurting him and he didn’t know if it was worse to let him to stop or to make him go on. 

He hated this he hated it. 

He didn’t want to picture it, picture his mother packing up his bedroom or his dad and step-mom and Amelia attending his funeral, he didn’t want to imagine Sabrina at his grave or his roommates grieving. He didn’t want to think about Jared going bald or how few people would have attended a funeral service at a synagogue in the middle of nowhere in February. 

But Connor had seen it. Had lived it, more or less, and Evan just couldn’t let him hold that on his own. It wasn’t fair. He should have been the one to deal with it, he should have been the one stuck looking at the mess he had left behind… Not Connor. Not Connor. 

“I love you,” Evan said softly, hugging Connor. “I am so sorry, I am so sorry you had to go through that. I’m so sorry… I love you, I love you so much I’m so fucking sorry.” Connor shook hard, kept chewing his lip, and it had to be killing him all of the shaking and the crying, it had to be hurting him and most of Evan wanted to just hold him, let him rest, let him sleep but he knew if he stopped now he would never know what had really shaken Connor this badly, what had really caused this because Evan knew, he knew in his bones that this wasn’t the whole story. 

He pressed a kiss to the side of Connor’s head. Kept his arms around him, firm but gentle, not pushing or squeezing too hard. “What happened after that?” Evan asked. 

Connor closed his eyes tightly, and it reminded Evan of how he looked in the throes of the sharp pain that cut through him on the way to the hospital, reminded him of his feverish mutterings and his pleading to please stay. 

Evan already knew of course.

The moment Connor told him he had been in the reality where Evan died, he knew.

He didn’t want to know. He wanted to throw his hands over his ears, he wanted to block it out, he wanted to run from it because he always wanted to run away from what was true. 

What happened next? Evan already knew. 

He’d killed himself.

And Connor had seen. 

“We were… we were on your roof. Me and you. Two years ago,” Connor said softly, his voice jagged and raw and so full of pain. “And it was freezing, it was so cold. I tried… I’m so sorry. I tried, I tried so hard to… to.”

Evan nodded. 

“I couldn’t touch you,” Connor explained, his voice pained, breaking. “I kept… it was like I was disappearing, I wasn’t really there but I wasn’t here. I was… it was like I was flickering out. I couldn’t touch you, I couldn’t reach you.”

Evan closed his eyes for a moment. 

He could picture that night so clearly. The wind in his face. The blurred out city lights. Connor grabbing his arm, promising Evan that he wasn’t imaginary that he was real and he was real because Evan could feel his touch, could feel the almost painful grip on his arm…

But Connor couldn’t touch him. Wherever he had been or half-been, he couldn’t touch Evan. 

“Oh god, Connor, I’m so sorry,” Evan whispered. 

“You thought you were imagining me. You thought I wasn’t real.”

Evan nodded. 

“I tried to reach out, to touch your arm but I just. It was so unreal. My hand just… it went through your arm like it wasn’t solid? It wasn’t real.” Connor shuddering, his voice breaking, “And you _laughed_ and said you were right. That I wasn’t really there. That I wasn’t real, and that you were imagining me.”

Evan wanted to stop this story now.

When he was little, very little, his parents would read him stories in bed and sometimes he’d refuse to let them read the last pages, because if they read it then the story was over and if it was over, if it ended… 

You couldn’t change the ending once you read it. Couldn’t unknow it couldn’t unsee it or unread it. It was always the ending, even if you read other versions where it was different it wouldn’t erase that one. 

“I kept trying,” Connor said, his breathing uneven, ragged. “To touch you, to _stop_ you, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get a grip on you. I couldn’t stop you.” He shook his head, like he was ashamed. “I tried so hard. I tried… I told you I loved you and you-you said. You said I didn’t. You said you didn’t even know me.”

Evan hated that, he flinched, he hated that because that was exactly like him it was exactly like him to say that and it wished it wasn’t, he wished he had been better or said something kinder or… 

“I told you. About the letter, in high school? How I read it. How I kept it and it mattered to me. I tried everything I could, Evan, I tried and tried. I told you that you wouldn’t be alone, I _told_ you…”

Connor’s voice broke, and he started to sob against Evan’s shoulder, his tears soaking into the sleeve of Evan’s shirt, his shoulders shaking hard and Evan couldn’t fix this he couldn’t undo it all he could do was bear witness and trying to show Connor he was there, try to let Connor know he wasn’t alone. 

“You walked right through me,” Connor said, his voice brittle. “Off the roof of your building.”

Something grabbed cold in Evan’s stomach because he knew, suddenly, that wasn’t all, that wasn’t it, that wasn’t. 

“And I followed you.”

Evan stopped breathing. For maybe a second. Maybe a minute. Maybe entirely. 

He stopped breathing. His hands and arms and body shook. “Y-you followed me?”

“Yes.”

Evan turned, taking Connor’s face gently in his hands, looking at him, taking in his beautiful tear-streaked face, his sadness and his heartbreak. “Why the fuck would you do that Connor?” He asked, pushing some of Connor’s hair off of his face, tucking it behind his ear. “Why would you do something so stupid? Why would you - I love you I don’t want that, I’m not _worth_ that, I’d never want that.” He kissed Connor softly, and he was crying now, he was crying and he couldn’t stop it. “Why would you do that?”

 

* * *

Connor feels like he’s far away, like he’s floating, like he’s lighter for having told Evan the truth, but it’s not a joyful lightness, it’s not happy or satisfying, it’s just… unreal. 

 

Evan is crying and kissing him and asking him to explain why he’d follow him off the roof, why he’d do something so stupid, and Connor doesn’t...

 

“I thought… I thought if I could just touch you, just reach you, then maybe I could stop it.” He sighs. “I didn’t even think about it, I just… followed you. I had to _try.”_

 

Evan blinks. Kisses him again, and there’s something desperate in his lips and Connor closes his eyes and tries to tether himself back to what’s real, back to reality, back to Evan. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Evan says, his face streaked with tears. “I would never want you to do that, Connor, I… please don’t… don’t ever…”

 

“I wanted to save you,” Connor tries to explain, even though he knows it sounds insane. “I thought that I could because I knew that I did, that I was meant to, that… in this reality I saved you, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand not doing everything I could, I couldn’t…” He blinks. Takes a breath to try to steady himself. “I knew I wasn’t… wasn’t really there and I didn’t _want_ to be there. I… a reality where you’re dead isn’t a reality I want to be in.” He takes Evan’s hand in his. “And it worked. I came back to this reality. I… I came back.”

 

Evan lets out a shaky breath. “You didn’t know you’d come back,” he says, something fierce in his voice. “You didn’t know that you wouldn’t just… blink out of existence. Connor, you can’t, you can’t do that, you can’t… what if it had killed you? The real you, the you who was here?” 

 

“I couldn’t do _nothing-_ ”

 

“If anything like this ever happens again, you have to promise me you won’t do anything that stupid,” Evan interrupts, real panic in his voice. “You have to promise me that you wouldn’t-”

 

“I thought I could save you. It wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to… I thought that I could _save_ you.” Evan’s breathing is still so, so shaky, and Connor reaches out his hand and touches his cheek, ignoring the pain in his stomach a little longer. “Evan. I would do _anything_ to save you.”

 

Evan shakes his head. “That’s not… you can’t…”

 

“It wasn’t my reality,” Connor tries to assure him. “I didn’t belong there. I came back.”

 

“But what if you didn’t?”

 

“I came back. I love you. I love you so fucking much.” 

 

Connor kisses Evan softly, trying to ignore the fact that they’re both shaking, that everything hurts, that he feels like he’s been ripped apart in so many ways, like he’s not really here. 

 

When they break apart, Evan’s looking at him, face tight with worry. 

 

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Connor says, and Evan shakes his head firmly. 

 

“You… you shouldn’t have to carry that yourself,” he says, his voice ragged. “I’m so… I’m so sorry, Connor.”

 

“I guess you were right,” Connor says, without thinking, letting out a laugh he knows is hollow. “When you asked me…”

 

Evan’s looking at him, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, and Connor realizes he doesn’t remember, Evan doesn’t remember what he said two years ago, and he can’t be the one to remind him, he can’t, he just can’t. 

 

“When I asked you what?” When Connor just shakes his head, Evan grips his hand tightly. “Connor. What are you talking about?”

 

Connor’s so tired. He wants to spare Evan this, spare him more pain, but he just…

 

He’s crumbling. He’s crumbling, because Evan won’t let this go and he’s so, so tired. 

 

“That first June we were friends,” Connor begins, hating how weak his voice sounds. “When you got alcohol poisoning. You asked me…” He takes a deep breath and continues. “ _‘Do you think there’s a parallel universe where I died where I was supposed to and I’m just done? I’m done, and I don’t have to feel like this anymore?’_ ”

 

Evan goes deadly still, deathly pale. “I… _Connor.”_

 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, feeling just… miserable, completely miserable for having brought it up. “You were drunk, you didn’t remember, I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have.”

 

He closes his eyes and tries to stop himself from shaking, because it hurts, it hurts so much, everything just… hurts. 

 

“You… we… we should sleep,” Evan says, pushing Connor’s hair off his face. “You should sleep. You… I am so sorry, I am so fucking sorry, Connor, I love you so much, I love you so so much, I’m sorry.”

 

Connor swallows. Looks at Evan, trying to make him understand. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”

 

Evan blinks. “You did,” he says, like it’s important, like it’s something Connor absolutely has to know. “You _did,_ Connor, you… whatever you saw in that other reality, it is _not_ what happened here. It’s not _our_ reality. I am so, so sorry that you had to see that, I am so fucking sorry, but you’re here, and so am I, and…” He takes a deep breath and takes Connor’s face in his hands and Connor feels his eyes well up with tears, yet again. “You can stay, Connor. Of _course_ you can stay. This is… this is where we’re supposed to be, where you and I are supposed to be, and I’m keeping you here, okay? I’m keeping you.”

 

“You have to stay, too,” Connor says immediately, even though he knows he’s being stupid, he knows. But he’s tired and sore and scared and exhausted, so completely down to the bone exhausted, and he knows he can’t hold on to consciousness much longer. 

 

He lets Evan steady him as he lays back down, gets into a position that’s comfortable. Evan lays down next to him, on his side, and he grabs Connor’s hand and holds it tight before turning off the lamp. 

 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Connor whispers as he drifts off. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 

“I love you,” Evan says, over and over again, and Connor lets sleep take him. 

 

* * *

“I love you,” Evan said softly to Connor. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Connor finally seemed to have fallen asleep. He had been fighting it for a little while, Evan knew. It reminded him of last September, of how he would struggle and fight and keep himself awake when he shouldn’t just to give him more time with Evan. 

He wasn’t worth that, he wasn’t worth it. 

He was glad Connor was resting now. He was so relieved when his breathing evened out, when he finally managed to drop off to sleep. Evan just watched him, watched as Connor’s face finally relaxed, as his eyes closed less tightly, as his breathing got deeper and more even. He breathed so quietly, so softly when he slept that sometimes Evan thought maybe the reason he preferred to sleep in the crook of his neck was so he could hear Connor’s heart, feel his pulse immediately when he opened his eyes. 

God, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About Connor telling him Evan had predicted this, Evan had been the one to suggest that there might be other versions of reality… and that he had been right. “ _‘Do you think there’s a parallel universe where I died where I was supposed to and I’m just done? I’m done, and I don’t have to feel like this anymore?’_ ”

He didn’t remember saying it. He had been so fucking drunk that night, so out of it and so fucked up that he just barely remembered knowing he had a choice, a choice to talk to Connor or to end it and he picked Connor. 

He didn’t know why. His drunk motivations were hazy. He wished he could comfort himself, believe that it was just because deep down Evan had wanted to live. That there was a small part of him fighting, struggling to hang on, to stick around. But really, he thought he was just scared to die again. Scared it wouldn’t stick, scared he wouldn’t actually be done, scared he’d find his way to be stuck feeling that way forever, for eternity. 

So he picked Connor that June night. 

Because Connor was safe, Connor was always safe.

And Connor had known that all along, had known…

Fuck fuck fuck. 

How did he make this right? How could he convince Connor that the reality where Evan had killed himself and stayed dead wasn’t an option anymore? That he was staying, that he would pick Connor every time, no matter what. If he had an option, he would pick Connor. 

Evan took in a shaky breath, his eyes flooding again, and he pressed his hand over his mouth to ensure he wouldn’t wake Connor, wouldn’t disturb him. It took him a long fucking time to let whatever it was that was clawing up his insides out, whatever feeling it was that was slicing through him bring guilt and pain and sadness. 

He hated that Connor had followed him.

That left him breathless. Horrified. What if he hadn’t come back here? What if he got lost somewhere, trapped in the in-between, in the space stretched out connecting that universe with this one and, presumably, the others where they died. 

Evan figured there must be others where they died and stayed that way. At least twenty places where his mother had grieved him, where Jared fucking Kleinman had attended his funeral, where his Facebook wall filled up with impersonal thoughts and generic messages from would-be mourners, putting on a show. 

A sick part of him wanted to know who they were. 

Who’d bother to write something about him if he disappeared tomorrow. 

But really, Evan was better off not knowing. Not obsessing over how to get himself a crowded funeral because that wouldn’t benefit him anyway, wouldn’t make him less dead, wouldn’t comfort his mother or Connor much if he died. 

Evan’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, thinking about his mom. How his mom in another reality had to suffer… how she’d probably been so sad that he had died. He hadn’t considered that she would be the one stuck cleaning up all of his things. He hadn’t considered that he would be leaving her alone to handle everything of his. Two years ago he had written up a will, sure, but at the time he had considered it a favor he was doing the world he was leaving behind, a way to tie up loose ends… He hadn’t thought about the execution of it. Hadn’t considered that… she would have brought him home to bury him. That sat strangely with Evan, to think of the place where he grew up as home after all of this time but. She would think of it that way. She would have brought him home. 

Damn it. 

Fuck. That was the first time Connor had probably ever even seen Evan’s dad in the flesh. He’d seen him more recently than Evan had, that was for damn sure. Evan wondered how he had looked. If he’d been upset, sad… Why had he brought his new family with him? Had Tracy volunteered? Or had his dad asked? What about Amy? Evan didn’t want to think about Amelia having to go to his funeral… she was only six two Februaries ago, too young to understand, too young to have to sit through that kind of thing. 

Jared had been there too. That was fucking weird to him. They didn’t speak, hadn’t spoken properly in years and their last interaction had ended with Evan blocking Jared’s Facebook because he kept leaving snide comments about Evan and Connor on a photo of them Evan’s mom had posted over Thanksgiving. Stuff about freaks finding love at last and being relieved that it looked like Evan wasn’t going to become a sexless hermit and he’d just blocked him. Why on earth would Jared Kleinman go to his funeral?

 _Get ahold of yourself,_ Evan told himself firmly after a few more minutes of just letting himself feel it, letting himself take it in and letting it sit with him. Letting the fact that there were other versions of them out there, versions where they died, versions where they couldn’t be saved… It made him ache, to think that the universe might have produced other Connors who never made it past their twenty-seventh birthdays. 

It wasn’t fair to them. 

It wasn’t fair at all. 

He was lost about how to help Connor, how to comfort him because if the situation were reversed… If the situation were reversed, Evan doubted he would be able to relate what happened back to Connor. He doubted it would be here at all, who knew what he might have done if he were transported back to that February. 

He didn’t want to think about it. 

He didn’t want Connor to go again. God, that scared him. It scared him how random it all was, how their fears that it might still be there, whatever caused the loops might still be inside of them, were confirmed. It was there, somewhere, and it had tried to Ghost of Christmas Whatever Connor into another universe. 

Evan hated it, he hated it so much. 

“I’m keeping you,” Evan said softly to Connor, asleep beside him, breathing softly. “So don’t leave me okay? I love you. I want _you_. I love you.” He leaned over, kissing the top of Connor’s head softly. “Please stay. Please, please stay here, stay with me.”

As the sun rose, Evan’s eyes finally slipped shut, his hand tightly holding Connor’s, his last thought that he needed Connor to stay.


	5. FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to be in any other universe,” Connor continues. “So we’re going to stay in this one, okay?”

Evan woke up to Edgar Allan Paw swatting at his nose and purring loudly. He rubbed his face against the top of Evan’s head. “Hey buddy,” Evan said, his voice rough, scratchy. “What’s going on?” Edgar climbed onto Evan’s shoulder, then settled on his chest, curling into a little cat-croissant and purring happily.

Evan’s eyes were gritty and his head was sort of achey, and he knew immediately that he hadn’t slept enough. But he forced his eyes open, turning his head to the side to look at Connor, who was opening his eyes slowly, blinking a few times.

“I love you,” Evan said, smiling a little at Connor, knowing it wasn’t exactly sitting right on his face. “Good morning.”

“I love you,” Connor said softly, his eyes still half lidded and sleepy. He leaned over, very slightly, and gingerly scratched Edgar behind his ears. Then he fixed Evan with a look. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little,” Evan said with a sigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Wiped,” Connor admitted.

“Last night…” Evan started.

 “I’m so sorry,” Connor rushed to say. “I shouldn’t have told you, I -”

Evan sat up, gently nudging Edgar to perch at the foot of the bed. He took Connor’s hand gently. “No. _I’m_ sorry… thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that I pushed, I know it wasn’t easy to tell me what happened.” He leaned over, kissing Connor’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. That must have been horrible and so disorienting and scary and. I’m sorry you had to deal with that by yourself. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Connor went on, shaking his head. “Now I’ve just… I don’t know why it happened, or how or… what exactly even happened but I don’t want you to be scared all of the time, I don’t -”

“So I’ll get my appendix out as a precaution. Alex could probably do it in the kitchen,” Evan said, trying to lighten the mood. “We’ll figure it out.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh I know,” Evan said easily. “I’m _hilarious_.” Connor laughed weakly, then flinched. Evan frowned. “Sorry,” he said softly, kissing Connor’s cheek.

“What time is it?” He asked then, and Evan found his phone and let him know it was just after seven thirty.

“You should sleep more,” Evan said to Connor simply. “Do you need anything for pain?” Connor nodded and Evan got up, fetching his meds and giving them to Connor. He leaned over and kissed him. “Go back to bed.”

“Only if you do too,” Connor said stubbornly. “You’re supposed to be working from home.”

“I do actually need to work though,” Evan said, frowning.

“Not at seven thirty. Come back to bed.”

“Connor,” Evan started, trying to explain that he needed to work, he had to make sure he stayed on top of things so that he didn’t need to go back to the office, didn’t need to spend time away from Connor.

“Give me an hour,” Connor said. “One more hour, then you can work. Please?”

“Okay,” Evan said, relenting. He rested his head on the pillow beside Connor, wrapping his arm loosely around Connor’s chest, just to reassure himself that Connor was solid and real and warm to the touch. He fell asleep fast, still exhausted. Mercifully, Evan didn’t dream at all.

When Evan woke up an hour later, he did feel better for having slept more. Connor was still fast asleep, his face relaxed and Evan felt something inside of him untwist.

He got out of bed, headed to the bathroom to pee and wash his hands and face, and then went to the kitchen where he found Cynthia reading and drinking coffee. “Good morning,” She said to Evan, giving him a smile.

 “Good morning,” He returned with a tired smile.

 “There’s coffee,” she said.

“Thanks.”

 “Coffee I can do,” Cynthia said. “Anything else? A bit too much for me.”

 “Fair enough,” Evan said, smiling.

“There’s cereal,” Cynthia said helpfully.

Evan nodded. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, sitting at the table across from Connor’s mother. “Connor’s still sleeping,” He said.

“Good. He should be resting,” She said smiling. “Zoe is going to bring dinner over tonight so hopefully we don’t have to convince him not to try to make something.”

“Great,” Evan said. He smiled at her. “Thank you for being here. I… just thank you.”

“Of course,” She said, turning back to her book. Evan finished his cereal and then he picked up his laptop and brought it back to the kitchen table. He booted up his laptop and got to work, answering some emails and working through a couple of documents that needed review. He got really sucked into the work, really focusing on this case he was working with Mariah.

He blinked a few times around ten o’clock because there was a knock at the apartment door. Evan got up to answer it, thinking it might be Maureen or Jax or Leslie, but he was surprised to discover Alex and Mattie standing on the stairs.

“Hi!” Evan said surprised.

“See, he remembers what we look like,” Mattie said with a smile, pulling Evan into a hug and kissing his cheek.

“Heidi said you were still here,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “Surprised you’re not at work.”

“Working from home,” Evan said awkwardly, shrugging. “Are you just getting off of work?”

“Overnight shift on the maternity ward,” Mattie said, and Alex stifled a yawn.

“ER shift,” Alex said. “But we brought bagels!” She smiled sheepishly as if she had forgotten.

“You guys are great,” Evan said, his heart feeling very warm.

“Hello,” Cynthia said, appearing from the spare room. “Alex, nice to see you again.”

“Hi Mrs… Cynthia you told me to call you Cynthia,” Alex said with an awkward smile. “This is Mattie, by the way, my girlfriend.”

“And our other roommate,” Evan added.

“Hello!”

“Are you a doctor as well?” Cynthia asked.

“Yes, I’m finishing my residency as an OB-GYN,” She said.

“Lots of vaginas,” Alex said and then her eyes went wide as she seemed to hear herself. “Oh my god I am so sorry.”

Cynthia laughed, delighted. “I’d imagine.”

“How’s Connor?” Mattie asked, skillfully shifting the conversation.

“Better,” Evan answered. “Tired, but better.”

“And your case?” Alex asked. “Heidi said it should be finishing up.”

“Yeah,” Evan said with a smile. “We won it yesterday. My boss is through the moon.”

“Do you talk to Heidi a lot?” Cynthia asked Alex, sounding genuinely curious.

Alex’s face went red. “Oh. Yeah I guess? She’s… cool.”

“Mom’s basically adopted her,” Evan said with a smile. “I always wanted a sister so…”

Alex was very pink. “So can we see the patient?” She said, a bit louder.

“I’m not sure if Connor’s up yet,” Evan started to say when at that exact moment Edgar meowed, announcing his presence and Connor’s.

“Yeah I am.”

“You’re up!” Cynthia said. “How are you feeling?”

 “Sore,” Connor said, looking a little alarmed to find his living room full of people. “But okay? I just got up to pee.”

“Go, go on sweetheart,” Cynthia said. She turned back to Alex and Mattie. “Can I get you some coffee?”

“I’d love some,” Alex said gratefully.

“Love you’ve been up for thirty-six hours,” Mattie said.

“So coffee won’t hurt me,” Alex said. They all headed into the kitchen and Alex had some coffee and they all ate some bagels. Not too long after, Connor walked slowly back into the living room.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked Alex and Mattie, smiling.

“Trying to find out if we need to post a Craigslist ad for a new roommate,” Alex said with a laugh. “Seeing as you stole ours.”

Connor’s face drained of color, and Evan recalled that he said something about how when he was… elsewhere he’d seen Mattie and Alex, he’d seen them being upset because Evan was dead, he’d seen them…

Evan rushed to Connor’s side and helped him to sit down on the sofa.

“They brought bagels,” Cynthia said, actually answering Connor’s earlier question.

“And came to check up on you,” Evan said.

“How are you feeling?” Alex asked, finishing a bite of her bagel. “Any fever? Vomiting? Redness at the incision site?”

“I’m okay,” Connor said, trying to smile.

“She didn’t bring an IV with her this time,” Mattie joked. “I wouldn’t let her.”

Cynthia gave Mattie a questioning look, and Alex jumped in to say how Evan had gotten “super dehydrated” once when he was sick and she’d stolen an IV kit from work for him. He appreciated that she left out the alcohol poisoning.

“Why wouldn’t you just go to the hospital?” Cynthia asked, sounding genuinely confused and a little concerned.

“Oh uh. My paralegal job before this one didn’t offer insurance through the company and I had this awful Marketplace plan…” Evan said awkwardly. “It would have just been really expensive?” He didn’t want to get into the details of just how broke he was right after law school in front of Connor’s very nice, very wealthy mother. It was already embarrassing enough that he was still pretty broke, all things considered.

“Plus what good is living with doctors if you don’t squeeze free medical care out of them?” Mattie said, laughing a little.

Connor stayed in the living room with them for a little while, eating a few bites of a bagel, but Evan knew pretty quickly that he ought to get back to bed. He looked drained. The thing Alex had said had clearly spooked him and he had to be exhausted after last night.

“You don’t have to stay and socialize with us,” Alex said, “We just wanted to check in. Go back to bed.”

“Thank you for coming by,” He said. “And for bringing food, that was really nice of you.”

Connor headed back into his room, and Cynthia followed to make sure he got properly settled back in bed. Alex and Mattie hung around for a little while longer, finishing Alex’s cup of coffee and playing a little with Edgar before they announced that they ought to get back home.

“You ever coming back?” Mattie joked. “We miss you.”

“Once Connor’s recovered, I’ll come back,” Evan said with a smile.

Alex rolled her eyes. “We’re gonna have to put up another ad on Craigslist before long.” She hugged Evan fiercely. “If we live with an axe murderer, we’re blaming you.”

 “Love you too Alex.”

* * *

 

Connor wakes up next to a murmured conversation.

 

“... don’t really want to wake him up, if that’s okay.”

 

“It’s fine, honestly, I figured he’d be resting. I just wanted to drop in.”

   

He opens his eyes slowly, all the while trying to place the voice, which is familiar enough that he knows it’s someone he knows but not so familiar that he places it immediately.

 

“I’m awake,” he manages to croak out, and he winces as he moves to sit up and Evan’s next to him, rushing to support him, to make it just that little bit less painful to get upright in bed.

 

Connor loves him for it so much.

 

“Hey,” says Graham, making his way to the armchair next to Connor’s bed. He looks a little awkward, but he’s carrying a bag with two small boxes in them and looks pleased to see him. “I, uh, brought cupcakes.”

 

It takes a moment for Connor to catch up, but when he does he finds himself smiling. “From that place around the corner from your office?” he asks, just to be sure.

 

“Absolutely,” says Graham, smiling back, pulling one of the boxes out and showing Connor, who laughs a little, then immediately regrets it. Graham winces in sympathy, and frowns a little, looking sad. “I thought you could use a pick me up.”

 

Evan looks at the box in bemusement. “Is there bacon on that cupcake?”

 

“It’s a maple bacon waffle cupcake,” Connor says, feeling a little bit guilty. “It’s really good. Graham and I have had them a couple of times.”

 

Evan looks at him, a smile creeping cautiously across his face. “I knew you guys had coffee sometimes, I didn’t know you were sneaking off for bacon cupcakes.”

 

Graham looks embarrassed. “We don’t keep bacon in the house,” he explains. “So…”

 

“Sometimes you just want real bacon,” Connor finishes with a grin. He looks at Evan, who looks more than a little skeptical. “Not that there’s anything wrong with turkey bacon, though.”

 

“Turkey bacon is fine,” Graham chimes in. “And it’s not like we’re sneaking off to eat bacon all the time.”

 

“Sometimes we have calamari,” Connor can’t help but quip, and Graham laughs.

 

He pulls out the other box from his bag and hands it to Evan, who looks at it, a hard-to-read expression on his face. “That’s a lemon meringue cupcake,” Graham explains, looking a little awkward but continuing. “Sabrina said you’d like it.”

 

“She’s probably right,” Connor confirms, smiling at Evan. “You like lemon cookies.” He looks back at Graham, smiling widely. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.”

 

Graham shrugs like it’s not a big deal but his nose turns a little pink, like he’s embarrassed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Appendicitis can be pretty scary - my cousin had one that burst and it made him really, really sick.”

 

Evan goes pale. “It was close,” he says, reaching out and grabbing Connor’s hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss. “You’re pretty wiped out, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor has to admit. He’s drained today, utterly exhausted, like all the energy has been sucked out of him. The interrupted sleep hadn’t helped and the intense conversation in the middle of the night has left him feeling a little unreal, a little jittery. Not to mention Alex’s quip about Craigslist…

 

He smiles again at his friend, then remembers something. “Oh hey, I meant to text you the other day,” he says to Graham. “We got in that copy of Hopscotch you wanted. Talk to whoever’s on the store floor, it should be under the counter with your name on it. Tell them I said to give you a discount.”

 

Graham rolls his eyes. “Like hell you’re giving me a discount.” He smiles, then takes Connor’s hand and kind of squeezes it, like a handshake but not quite. “I’ll let you rest. Get better soon, okay? When you’re feeling up to it, we should all have dinner again. Let me cook this time.”

 

“Sounds good,” says Connor with a laugh. “Thanks for the cupcake. And for stopping by, I really appreciate it.”

 

“Not a problem,” says Graham, his voice warm. “Rest up.”

 

Connor genuinely isn’t sure exactly how he and Graham ended up actually friends, considering that his first impression of the guy wasn’t exactly positive. It’s probably got something to do with them both having similar taste in books, and the fact that even though Graham comes across as a little boring and All-American, he’s got a great sense of humor and he’s just a genuinely nice guy.

 

Considering how close Evan and Sabrina are, it made sense for Connor to try to get to know Graham better. He just hadn’t expected to actually end up counting the guy as an actual friend.

 

It’s still kind of wild when he thinks about it.

 

A real life straight friend.

 

“Do you really want to eat a cupcake with bacon on it?” Evan asks once Graham is gone, clearly dubious.

 

Connor grins. “I absolutely do.”

 

“I see how it is,” says Evan with a smirk. “You’re running off having secret bacon with your bacon buddy. Why does everyone I date like this guy so much?”

 

Connor gets that he’s joking but he wants to shut down any doubts Evan might have, like, immediately. “I love you,” he says, leaning over to kiss Evan. “I love you more than anything.”

 

“More than bacon?”

 

“Definitely more than bacon,” Connor says with a nod. “I’ll throw this cupcake in the trash right now if you want me to.”

 

Evan’s face softens. “No, you should enjoy your dead pig cake,” he says with a smile. “And this lemon meringue one actually looks delicious. Shall I get plates or something?”

 

“Probably,” Connor says with a smile. “They’re kind of massive. I don’t think I’ll eat the whole thing.”

 

Evan looks concerned. “You haven’t been eating a lot. Still feeling kind of sick, huh.”

 

“Nothing to worry about,” Connor assures him. “Nothing’s made me, like, throw up, so I think it’s okay?” He kisses him before he goes, trying to radiate some kind of ‘don’t worry about me’ energy, even though he’s absolutely certain that after last night, Evan is completely incapable of not worrying about him.

 

Which he hates, he hates it so much, because he _never_ wants Evan to worry, but…

 

Fuck, if it were Evan in this situation. If it were Evan recovering from surgery, Evan who’d said all sorts of terrifying things while running a fever, Evan who’d…

 

Who’d…

 

If it had been _Evan_ who’d been forced to watch Connor die and not been able to stop him, Connor doesn’t know what he would have done once he’d found out.

 

When Evan comes back, he’s got Connor’s mom in tow, who offers to make coffee. Knowing he absolutely won’t finish the cupcake, Connor manages to convince his mom to eat half, and soon all three of them are in Connor’s room, drinking coffee and eating cupcakes.

 

“I can put something on for dinner in the slow cooker,” Connor offers as they eat.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Evan warns, and Cynthia just looks at him, shaking her head.

 

“Your sister said she’d bring Thai after work,” says his mom. “Even though she said something about your homemade curry being better than theirs.”

 

“All I’d have to do is chop up some-”

 

“Nope,” Evan interrupts, taking Connor’s hand. “You’re not cooking and that’s final.”

 

Connor frowns. Tries to argue. He’s been in bed for what feels like days, with people having to help him with all sorts of shit he should be able to do himself, including Evan having to help him _shower_ , which was _mortifying_ , and… “I don’t like feeling useless.”

 

“You are nowhere _near_ useless,” Evan says, his voice firm, squeezing Connor’s hand tightly. “You’re amazing and wonderful and you need to take time to recover. I love you. I love you so, so, so much.”

 

Connor’s definitely going to tear up, but doesn’t want to make it a whole big thing. He closes his eyes, leans his head against Evan’s shoulder and just lets himself enjoy his boyfriend’s warmth for a moment.

 

He’s so glad he’s here. He’s just so, so, so glad he’s here.

* * *

 

Evan wasn’t jealous of Graham… not really. He just found the whole thing a little bit odd. 

But seriously, everyone he’d ever dated seemed to love this dude and Evan… didn’t exactly get the appeal. Like Graham was nice and he was sort of funny sometimes but… 

Whatever. 

It wasn’t his call. Graham was nice and not annoying and Connor liked him so he was fine with it. 

It kind of weirded him out that Connor had, like, made it a point to become Graham’s friend. Because it was such an abrupt aboutface. In February, Connor blamed Sabrina for Evan’s attempt, and disliked Graham on principle. By Evan’s birthday in April, the two of them were getting coffee and talking about books and having bacon dates. And Evan knew it was for his benefit, he knew it was so that he could hang out with Connor and Sabrina and not leave Graham feeling like the fourth wheel on a tricycle, he knew that. 

But.

It was weird. 

But a good weird. Unfamiliar but not bad. 

Even if it meant Evan had to live with the knowledge that maple bacon waffle cupcakes existed. 

That sounded gross. Meat and cupcakes did not belong together.

“Thanks for letting me drop in,” Graham said to Evan as Evan walked him out of Connor’s apartment.

“Of course. Thanks for the cupcake.”

Evan headed back into Connor’s bedroom, smiling at Connor who was kind of eyeing the cupcake box. “Do you really want to eat a cupcake with bacon on it?” He asked, wrinkling his nose a little. 

Connor smiled back at him, this obnoxious smile he got whenever he was going to do something he knew would annoy Evan. “I absolutely do.” 

Evan rolled his eyes, smirking at Connor. “I see how it is. You’re running off having secret bacon with your bacon buddy.” He shook his head a little, “Why does everyone I date like this guy so much?” 

Connor’s smile wilted just a bit. “I love you,” Connor said, a serious edge in his voice that wasn’t there before. “I love you more than anything.”

Evan wanted to get back to teasing each other, so he said, “More than bacon?”

Connor nodded. “Definitely more than bacon.” He looked at Evan, eyes locked. “I’ll throw this cupcake in the trash right now if you want me to.”

Evan smiled at him. “No, you should enjoy your dead pig cake.” He looked over at the cupcake Graham had brought along for him. That was nice. That was annoyingly nice. Sabrina seriously had picked him out of a fucking catalogue under Actually Nice White Dude. “And this lemon meringue one actually looks delicious. Shall I get plates or something?”

“Probably,” Connor said smiling. “They’re kind of massive. I don’t think I’ll eat the whole thing.”

Evan frowned slightly. They were massive, of course, but not so massive that Connor wouldn’t normally try to eat the whole thing in one sitting to gross Evan out. He must still not be feeling super well.  “You haven’t been eating a lot. Still feeling kind of sick, huh.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Connor said, apparently forgetting he was dating the Team Captain of the Worry Squad who had just learned that apparently, alternate realities exist, and apparently, there was nothing keeping them in this one but chance. “Nothing’s made me, like, throw up, so I think it’s okay?” 

“Right,” Evan said softly, worrying about Connor very obviously. He didn’t want to leave the room, not even to get a plate, but that was Not A Productive Line Of Thinking, Evan, so he did it in spite of his fears. Cynthia saw him puttering around the kitchen and she followed him into Connor’s room, offering to make coffee. 

“Have half of this?” Connor said to her, smiling and offering his cupcake. “I won’t finish it and they’re never as good the next day.”

“You twisted my arm,” She said, though she had needed very little convincing. 

They all sat in Connor’s room, eating cupcakes and drinking coffee. “I can put  something on for dinner in the slow cooker,” Connor volunteered after a few bites. His tone is deliberately casual, like this is just an innocent suggestion, and Evan has to shut this down before it got worse. 

“Don’t you dare,” Evan said, his eyes narrowing.

Cynthia shook her head. “Your sister said she’d bring Thai after work. Even though she said something about your homemade curry being better than theirs.”

“All I’d have to do is chop up some-”

“Nope,” Evan cut him off, holding onto Connor’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re not cooking and that’s final.”

Connor opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to deflate before he managed to muster up the energy. He shrugged kind of listlessly, saying, “I don’t like feeling useless.”

Evan squeezed Connor’s hand again. “You are nowhere  _ near _ useless. You’re amazing and wonderful and you need to take time to recover. I love you. I love you so, so, so much.”

Connor nodded, then leaned his head against Evan’s shoulder. He could tell Connor was crying, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it. He just sat there and stroked Connor’s hair gently, letting him rest. 

The last few days had been a fucking nightmare. An actual living nightmare. And Evan hated it. He hated how much it had sapped the energy from Connor, how it had caused him so much physical and emotional pain. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to make them relive this fear and anxiety and uncertainty over and over. 

It had happened once, and they had vowed never again. 

And it fucking meant nothing. 

Evan didn’t know what to do. What he  _ could  _ do. He just knew he was meant to be here, with Connor. 

He kissed the top of Connor’s head lightly and helped him climb back under the covers to get a little bit more sleep. Once he was sure Connor was out, Evan left the door ajar and returned to the kitchen to get back to work. He knew he wasn’t exactly at the top of his productivity game by working here today, but Evan didn’t give a shit. He was able to watch out for Connor, keep him company when he was awake, and that was good. 

* * *

The next time Connor wakes up, there’s another hushed conversation going on and someone’s holding his hand. He opens his eyes to see a familiar red afro.

 

Andi squeezes his hand.

 

“Hey babe,” she says, her voice a little less bright than usual. She smiles at him, brilliant white teeth a stark contrast to her dark skin.

 

Connor feels himself smiling. “Hey Andi.”

 

“You still haven’t explained how you knew Connor was sick?” says Evan, who looks a little confused.

 

“Zoe texted me,” she says, looking at Evan and squeezing Connor’s hand again. “After last September, I made her promise if Connor ever got sick again, she’d let me know.” She turns back to Connor and smiles, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and Connor feels a lump in his throat at the realization that… Andi’s a little shaken up.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, frowning, and she just laughs and kisses his cheek.

 

“Sure, because you absolutely _decided_ to get appendicitis just to freak us all out,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

 

Connor’s gut reaction is to still to argue. He still can’t quite let it go, can’t quite forgive himself for not saving Evan, the other Evan, the one who’s not sitting next to him, warm and real and alive.

 

He knows that he needs to. Needs to let the fear of that place go, needs to focus on this reality, where he belongs. The reality with _his_ Evan, who he loves more than anything.

 

Who, amazingly, incredibly, loves him, too.

 

“I made macarons!” Andi announces, pulling a Tupperware container from her bag. “I finally figured out how to make these fuckers successfully. There has been a lot of trial and error, let me tell you.”

 

“That’s impressive,” says Connor’s mom, who’s sitting at the foot of his bed petting Edgar. Connor hadn’t even noticed her. “They’re supposed to be really finicky to make.”

 

“Fair warning,” says Andi cheerfully, opening the container and showing them off. “There’s weed oil in the buttercream.”

 

“Oh my god,” Evan mutters.

 

“Well then I am definitely having one,” announces Cynthia, to Connor’s absolute astonishment.

 

“Mom!”

 

“It has been a stressful few days hours,” says his mom, grinning widely. “I think I deserve an edible.” She offers the box to Evan. “So do you, young man.”

 

“I don’t… really do that,” Evan says, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

 

“What happened to you complaining about me getting high all through high school?” Connor demands, wondering for a moment if he’d somehow managed to slip into yet another alternate reality without noticing.

 

“You were a teenager,” says Cynthia, before taking a bite into a macaron and smiling widely. “Your brain wasn’t fully developed yet. Also, you had school.”

 

“Oh my god,” Connor says, in utter disbelief.

 

“You didn’t tell me your mom was so cool,” says Andi, grinning widely. Then her grin turns into something else. “Or so hot.”

 

“Andi, _no.”_

 

Evan looks like he wants to dissolve into the carpet, and his mom can’t stop laughing, and Andi just smirks and positions herself on the armchair next to the bed.

 

“Oh,” she says after a moment, “and I brought a little something for Edgar as well!” She pulls a baggie out of her pocket.

 

“Absolutely not,” Connor says firmly. “You’re not getting my cat high.”

 

“It’s just catnip,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

 

“Is it?”

 

She pouts. “Okay, fine, it _might_ not be just catnip, but Ethel promised it was completely safe.”

 

“You are not giving my cat _anything_ from Ethel,” Connor says, shaking his head. He looks at Evan. “Don’t let her give Edgar anything.”

 

“I got you,” says Evan, smiling softly at him.

 

Connor would very much like to stay conscious and spend time with these people he loves, people who love him, but once again, he finds himself drifting off to sleep, feeling something warm flowing through him as he does.

 

As much as he wants to stay awake, he feels like this time that even if he sleeps, he’s not going anywhere.

 

Not really.

 

* * *

 

Andi left after Connor had fallen asleep for a bit, but not without playing with Edgar, making a loaf of banana bread out of what genuinely appeared to be thin air, and hitting on Connor’s mother like… far more than was appropriate. Evan half felt like he was a chaperone at a high school dance, there to keep kids from feeling each other up. Cynthia was also extremely stoned and kept giggling girlishly at everything Andi said, even the stuff that objectively wasn’t all that funny. 

She told Cynthia about the time they’d gone to see Time-ku, and filled her in all about the Parker-drama which embarrassed the hell out of Evan but did seem to distract Cynthia from being actually seduced by Andi. Cynthia seemed especially tickled to learn about Andi accidentally fucking up the spotlight because she was going down on the lighting designer in the production booth in the middle of the show. 

“What can I say? Blossom knows what she wants.”

“Blossom?” Cynthia asked, sounding curious. 

“My vagina.”

That made Connor’s mother crack up laughing and Evan genuinely thought he was going to die of secondhand embarrassment on Connor’s behalf. 

Banana bread made and Cynthia totally stoned, Andi scratched Edgar under his chin, kissed Evan’s cheeks and squeezed him tight, then headed off because apparently she had a hot date. 

“I didn’t even know Connor had any bananas,” Cynthia said, smiling and shaking her head as she (clearly still stoned) cut herself a slice and spread butter on it. 

“You alright?” Evan asked her, smiling. 

“I am fantastic sweetheart, you should have one of these cookies.”

“I’m good, thanks,” He said. 

“More for me,” She said, smiling. 

Evan went back into to Connor’s room to check on him, and he was still totally out. He seemed to be actually resting, which was good. He stuck around, watching his boyfriend breathe for a couple of minutes, before kissing the top of his head and returning to the living room to get back to work. 

Over the next few hours, Asher and Charles sent over a fruit basket (with a card saying nobody could make fun of the fruits for sending fruit). Mariah messengered over a few documents for Evan to sign for her (hard copies, irritatingly), and the bike messenger sighed and presented him a huge assortment of pints of ice cream, delivered in an insulated box. Mariah’s note said she had her appendix out when she was twelve and used it to get away with eating way too much ice cream, so she was passing the favor to Connor. 

“P.S. There’s a few non dairy options for you too. Miss you in the office!”

God, it was so fucking weird to have friends plural, Evan thought. 

But nice. 

Different and strange and unfamiliar, but nice. 

 

* * *

 

The next time Connor wakes up, he’s alone in his room. It takes him a moment to muster up the energy to move, but he feels like he needs to, because being alone in his room sits strangely with him, makes him shaky and jumpy and scared. He manages to put on a bathrobe before heading out into the kitchen to find his mom, sitting at the kitchen table eating a macaron, telling Edgar how beautiful he is.

 

Edgar, who is sitting by his food bowl, licking his ass.

 

Connor has no idea how many macarons his mom has eaten but he’s hopeful that Evan managed to stop her from eating too many. He sits down next to her and she smiles at him.

 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

 

“Okay,” he says, even though he’s a little jumpy. “Where’s Evan?”

 

“He’s in the spare room, on a phone call with a client,” his mom explains. She slices into a loaf of banana bread, butters a slice and hands it to him. “Andi made banana bread.”

 

“Of course she did,” he says with a smile, taking a small bite. It’s delicious, as usual, and something inside his stomach relaxes.

 

“Can I get you something to drink?” asks Cynthia, her hand on his shoulder. “There’s some orange juice. Alex said something about making sure you were getting fluids.”

 

“Orange juice would be nice,” he says, and Edgar jumps up to sit on his lap, which gives him a bit of a jolt. He wiggles his butt and jumps onto Connor’s shoulder carefully, meowing contentedly and folding up into a little loaf.

 

He’s bigger than he was when he first started doing this when he was a kitten, but he’s still a small enough cat that he fits. And Connor likes him up here, likes hearing him purr right up by his ear, likes knowing he’s not alone.

 

His mom hands him a glass of orange juice and he thanks her and drinks it. It soothes his throat, which is still weirdly scratchy. While he’s glad to be out of bed for a little while, he doesn’t suspect he’ll manage to stay awake long.

 

Connor remembers Evan mentioning that Sabrina was planning on stopping by with muffins after school, so hopefully he’s awake to see her. It’s weird, having all these people stopping by, but it’s… nice. Nice knowing that people care, that he matters to them enough that they’ll take time out of their day to come and see him, to bring food.

 

When he was in the psych ward in high school, no one visited except his parents and sometimes Zoe. And no one brought food, aside from one time where his mom brought a couple of obviously homemade chocolate chip cookies that she clearly hadn’t made because they were actually good.

 

Connor can’t remember who made she said made the cookies, but he remembers being surprised that they were tasty and had gluten in them and weren’t sugar-free or whatever it was his mom had been obsessed with at the time.

 

It’s… different, having people who care enough to stop by and check in on him.

 

He likes it.

 

“Andi’s a sweetheart,” Cynthia says, cutting herself another slice of banana bread. “It’s so nice you’re still so close, even though you’re not living together anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor admits, smiling a little. “She’s not the kind of person you get rid of easily.”

 

“She makes an amazing macaron,” his mom continues, smiling widely. “I wonder if I can convince her to make them when you and Evan get married.”

 

Connor blinks.

 

For a moment, he thinks his brain might have short-circuited.

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

Cynthia smiles. “I’m not saying it has to be any time soon, but… well, I have a feeling you’ll be making things official one day.”

 

Connor actually has to take a minute to process that.

 

Like, a full minute.

 

“I… I guess I never thought about it,” he admits when he finally gets his voice back. “I mean, I’m not… it wouldn’t… I’d…” He frowns a little bit. “Please don’t say anything to Evan about getting married, Mom, I don’t want to freak him out.”

 

“I wouldn’t say anything in front of him,” she assures him, still smiling a little. “I just like seeing you two together. It makes me happy, seeing how much you love each other.” She reaches out and takes his hand. “You deserve to be happy, sweetheart. You deserve to have someone who loves you as much as that boy clearly does.”

 

“I love him,” Connor says, because he thinks it’s obvious at this point. “I love him so much, Mom, he’s… I have never loved anyone in my whole entire life the way I love him.” He can’t help but smile, a little shyly. It feels weird to be talking to his mom about this, but he feels like it needs to be said. “If it’s what he wanted, I’d marry him tomorrow. Without a moment’s hesitation. But that’s not… I won’t rush him. I would never rush him. As long as he stays with me, as long as he wants me around, as long as I get to keep him… we could get married tomorrow or we could get married when we’re eighty, I wouldn’t care either way. As long as I get to keep him.”

 

Cynthia’s whole face softens. “I don’t think Evan’s going to let you go anywhere.”

 

Edgar jumps off Connor’s shoulder and bolts across the room. Connor turns to see Edgar’s heading straight for Evan, rubbing his little face at his ankles. For a moment, Connor has this fear that Evan’s overheard the conversation, overheard him talking about getting married, and it sends this jolt of fear through him because he knows Evan, he knows that Evan doesn’t do well with change, and the last thing he wants to do is freak Evan out.

 

But Evan looks calm and happy and he’s smiling at Connor with that bright smile he loves so much, that smile that could rival the sun, and Connor gets lost in it for a moment.

 

“Bathroom,” Cynthia announces, standing up and heading out of the room, and Evan takes the seat she’s just vacated, then leans in to kiss Connor.

 

“Should you be up?” he asks, his tone a little warning.

 

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Connor admits, and Evan’s smile drops a little. “Not your fault,” he says, before Evan can say anything, “I’m just… possibly going to be a little clingy for a while.”

 

“I get it,” Evan says softly. His smile comes back, though not as bright. “I managed to keep Andi from getting your cat high. I also managed to keep her from banging your mom.”

 

“Gross.”

 

“If I hadn’t been there, who knows what would have happened?” Evan continues, clearly teasing. “Andi is the kind of person who knows what she wants. And apparently it’s women who are closely related to you.”

 

“Oh my god,” Connor groans, trying not to laugh. “Do you want to tell my mom Andi’s slept with Zoe or should I?”

 

“Fuck no, I’m not telling her.” They both laugh for a bit, and even though it hurts Connor’s stomach a little, he thinks it’s worth it. He yawns, and Evan looks concerned. “Okay, let’s get you back to bed,” he says gently. “Then I’ll get my laptop and stay with you for a bit, okay? So you’re not alone.”

 

“I love you,” Connor says, because it’s a fact.

 

“I love you, too,” Evan replies, and that sunny smile is back.

 

Connor doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than that smile.  

* * *

 

Evan helped Connor back into bed, kissed him a few times because he was sort of clingy too, and waited until Connor drifted off with Edgar by his side to get back to work. 

Though “work” wasn’t exactly what he was doing. He was mostly just staring at a document and thinking about having heard the very tail end of Connor’s conversation with his mother. He didn’t like having unintentionally eavesdropped, he had just been moving to end the call he was on and standing near the door when he overheard something about “married when we’re eighty” and then Cynthia commenting that Evan wouldn’t let Connor go. 

Which was true. He wouldn’t. He’d chase him across other realities if he needed to, he wasn’t letting Connor go anywhere without him close behind. 

The married thing? 

Kind of weird. 

But not bad weird. Not scary. 

Just sort of a… “huh.” 

Like, technically speaking, Evan and Connor hadn’t even been together officially for a full year yet. It just. It felt longer. Probably because, looking at their relationship objectively, they had been basically together for at least an entire year before they admitted their feelings. Probably because Connor was it for Evan. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being with anybody else. 

Not that when he had dated other people before, Evan had spent the time planning to leave or see other people or whatever. Not really. 

Just. Like with Sabrina there was never the same sense of being totally sure. Evan was always a little on edge, a little scared she might not want him anymore, a little too nervous to ever totally relax. The fear of her leaving warped over time, until he was the one packing up his things and… Ultimately it was for the best. They didn’t fit together. 

Graham and Sabrina? They fit. Weirdly, but they fit. They got each other, and loved each other, and a few months ago they’d all gone out for drinks and Graham got drunk and just mooned over how great he thought she was (and also admitted to everyone at the table that he liked getting pegged, and Sabrina took that moment to say she’d finally found a harness that was comfortable and Evan was drunk enough to laugh and say he was glad because the harness industry was fatphobic and in the end they had all toasted to “fat babes pegging in comfort and style!”) and it was a weird evening but after Evan thought maybe he finally  _ got  _ her and Graham together. 

Evan thought well. He and Connor fit too. 

He wasn’t the sort of person who’d use a word like perfect because that was gross and also erased the fact that relationships were work and nothing was perfect and whatever but. 

He and Connor fit. 

So despite the fact that Evan was typically the sort of person who froze like a deer in the headlights if some big life altering relationship change was discussed… this didn’t really scare him. Well, at little. But not in the way that change typically did. 

Connor saw them together at eighty. 

That was... Good. That was something. 

And sure it was probably insane to be sitting here, grinning dopily about his boyfriend saying something about being married as octogenarians when Connor had quite literally ended up in another reality this week… but that’s what Evan did. He let himself have that happy moment, let himself imagine being old with Connor… let himself imagine being  _ old _ . It was a nice idea. 

He hoped they got to see it come to life. 

* * *

Once again, Connor wakes up to a hushed conversation. 

 

“... definitely don’t want to wake him up, I just wanted to check in on both of you. Graham said you looked tired.” 

 

“Hey Sabrina,” says Connor as he opens his eyes, knowing his words are coming out rough with sleep, because he’s been in and out all day, but it’s getting progressively easier to come back, progressively easier to wake up and feel like he knows what the fuck is going on. 

 

He somehow manages to prevent himself from apologizing to Sabrina, just straight up apologizing, which he knows he’s done so much of in the past few days and is probably freaking people out. 

 

It’s… weird, seeing Sabrina, even though she’s the one person he’s seen today he actually knew was coming. He wasn’t expecting it to, but it hurts, a little. He keeps picturing her in her yellow jacket, crying at Evan’s grave. All he wants to do is tell her how sorry he is. 

 

Evan helps Connor sit up, kissing his cheek as he does, and Sabrina takes a seat in the armchair, which seems to have a new home right next to the bed. She smiles at him and puts a bag next to him on the bed, then starts pulling things out. 

 

“Okay,” she says, her tone bright, “so we’ve got… eleven cards, five parcels and four Tupperware containers, full of home baking.”

 

“Sabrina, that is way too much,” Evan says, his voice firm. 

 

“Oh, it’s not all from me,” she assures him. “Maureen sent them up with me to bring to you. People have been dropping by the bookstore and leaving things for you all day, apparently.”

 

Connor doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “What?”

 

“How do people know?” Evan asks, looking a little taken aback and more than a little confused. 

 

Sabrina pulls out her phone and shows them a post on The Little Book Nook’s Facebook page. There’s a picture of Connor with Edgar on his shoulder, putting together some sort of display, which he definitely doesn’t remember being taken. 

 

_ Where’s Edgar Allan Paw? Some of you have asked where our favorite feline has been the last few days. Well, he’s had an important job to do - looking after our fearless leader  _ **_Connor_ ** _ , who gave us all a scare with an emergency appendectomy on Tuesday night. The surgery went well and he’s taking some time off to recover. Edgar is very protective of his human so might not be around the bookstore for a little while to keep an eye on him. From all of us at LBN - get well soon Connor! _

 

“Look how many likes and comments there are,” Sabrina says, a big smile on her face. 

 

“That’s so nice,” Connor finds himself saying, a little dazed. 

  
Evan leans his head on his shoulder and kisses his cheek. “I thought you hated Facebook.”

 

“I still hate Facebook,” Connor assures him. “But… it’s nice.” 

 

Sabrina grins. “Alright. So. Here are some banana muffins from me, as promised. As for the others, Maureen told me but I’m not, like, a hundred percent sure I remember… okay, so there’s a cheesecake from… Martha? Maureen said that her neighbor dropped it off because she’s got… something with her leg?” 

 

“I hope she’s okay,” Connor says, frowning a little. He looks at Sabrina. “Martha and Gladys are the former owners of the store. They’re really great. I should call them.”

 

“Maybe over the weekend,” Evan suggests gently. “Give yourself a bit of time to recover.”

 

“So this one is from Maureen, I’m pretty sure,” Sabrina continues. She opens the container and her eyes light up. “Ooh, maruya. This stuff’s great.” She looks at Connor. “She said she was going to drop it off herself but there’s been so many people, she doesn’t want you to be overwhelmed, but she’d like to visit on Sunday after work if that’s okay.”

 

“Sounds great,” Connor says with a smile. “I’ll text her.”

 

“And this one,” Sabrina says, opening a box of chocolate chip cookies, “I actually have no idea. Maureen said something about a singer with blue hair and a dog?”

 

“I know who she means,” Connor replies with a smile. “I have her partner’s number, they’re one of my author contacts. I’ll text them and say thank you.”

 

Sabrina smiles brightly. “Awesome. Okay, so… cards and parcels, they all have names on them, so that shouldn’t be too hard. It was mostly the baking I wanted to make sure I had sorted.” She picks up the boxes. “Shall I put them in the kitchen?”

 

“That would be great,” Evan says with a smile. 

 

Sabrina heads out into the kitchen, leaving the door open. “I’m making coffee!” she announces, and Connor can hear the sound of her putting on the kettle, and he’s a little overwhelmed. 

 

“Does she know where anything is?” Connor asks Evan. “Should I get up and help her find things?”

 

“Stay in bed,” Evan instructs. He smiles a little. “Sabrina has this uncanny ability to know exactly where to find everything she needs to make coffee, no matter where she is. She says it’s a superpower she gained by being a teacher.” He kisses Connor on the cheek. “Sorry to wake you. Did you sleep okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor assures him. “It’s weird, sleeping so much, but I’m just… it’s different to last September but it’s still… a lot.”

 

“Your body needs rest to recover,” Evan says matter-of-factly. “You just need to listen to it for a little while, that’s all.”

 

It’s something he’s still getting used to, being actual friends with Sabrina. Actual, proper friends with his boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend. Connor definitely wouldn’t have seen this coming a year ago, or even six months ago, but somehow Sabrina and Graham have become an important part of his life. 

 

An important part of the life he has with Evan. 

 

That’s… a little overwhelming, but in a good way.

 

Connor moves around a little so he can kiss Evan. As he does, he can feel Evan smile. 

 

“I love you,” Connor tells him, because even though he knows, he never gets tired of reminding him. 

 

Evan smiles again. “I love you, too.”

 

* * *

Sabrina cheerfully returned to Connor’s bedroom with an assortment of muffins and cups of coffee for all of them, all neatly arranged on the same tray Connor had brought Evan breakfast in bed on, back on Valentine’s day. 

“Told you,” Evan said to Connor, who smiled at him and rolled his eyes. 

“Told him what?” Sabrina said. 

“About your psychic coffee powers.”

“I’m definitely a little psychic,” Sabrina said. She took a cup of coffee and smiled.

“How’s that work for you?” Connor asked, and Evan was so glad it wasn’t hostile or rude, just genuine curiosity. 

Sabrina smiled. “I’m kind of joking, but sort of not. I always find the coffee.”

“She does.”  
“And I… I dunno. I get a weird feeling sometimes, like if something big is going on? Like I definitely called my sister Tabitha the night she came out to our mom because I just _knew_ something was different.”

“I kind of get that,” Connor said. “Like vibes sometimes?”

“Totally.”

“Though I don’t have a sixth coffee sense.”

“I’m positive it developed out of an intense need for coffee all of the time. Children are… difficult.”

“At least you use your psychic powers mostly for good,” Evan teased. 

 “If only I could use it to win the lottery.”  
“Graham makes six figures,” Evan said, teasing. “I think you’ve already won.”

“Not until it’s legal,” She said. “Oh, also, Evan… Any chance I could get you to look over something for me? Not immediately, but once Connor’s all recovered? Only if it’s not weird though. If it weird, don’t worry about it.”

Evan smiled. “So you want me to look over your prenup huh?”

“Is that weird? It’s weird right, I’ll see if I can find someone else.”

“No, it’s not weird. I just reserve the right to give you shit about it.”

“Aren’t those just for if you get divorced?” Connor asked. “Because if you’re gonna get divorced I kind of think I need to warn Graham.”

“He’s very protective of his bacon buddy,” Evan said with a smile. 

“Fuck off,” Connor said. “So I have a friend.”

“A secret bacon friend,” Sabrina said. “It’s like you’re having a pork affair.”

“I guess they could be porking?” Evan joked. 

“Ew,” Connor said, shaking his head. 

“Did you just say ew to porking my dead sexy fiance?” Sabrina said, mock offended. “I’ll have you know he is adorable. And a very good boy in the bedroom.”

“Gross,” Connor said good naturedly. “Straight people.”

“So this prenup? I’m guessing it’s just a basic separation of assets? Unless there’s something really weird in it.”  
“Nothing weird as far as I know,” Sabrina said, shrugging. “But that’s probably why I need a lawyer. The short version is that Graham’s folks are kind of loaded and I don’t have any interest in their money, so I’m signing paper saying _if_ we were to ever get divorced, I’m not entitled to any of that white people crap.”

“Some prenups can get super weird though,” Evan said. “You could add a clause about how often you need to be eaten out, for example.”

“That’s more of a verbal agreement,” Sabrina said with a laugh. “Though I guess we could add something about pegging.”  
Connor laughed and then flinched but didn’t stop laughing. “I still cannot believe that, oh god.”

“My boy’s open to all experiences, what can I say?”

They all chuckled a little bit about fat babes pegging and then Connor yawned a few times, smiling sheepishly. 

“You my dear,” Sabrina said, stealing Connor’s coffee cup and setting it on the tray, “Need to go back to sleep.” She leaned over, hugging him carefully around the shoulders. 

“There’s weed macarons,” He said, like he suddenly remembered. “My old roommate brought them over.”

“And then his mom got into them,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. “And almost slept with her.”

“Didn’t Zoe already sleep with her?” Sabrina said, a playful smile on her lips.

“Oh yeah,” Connor said. “She’s gonna flip her lid when she hears this one.”

“Amazing,” She said. 

“Take a few cookies home? There’s like two dozen at least.”

“Okay,” Sabrina said, hugging Connor once more. “Get some sleep, dude.”

Evan leaned over and kissed Connor’s cheek. “I’m just gonna go walk her out?”

“Take your time,” Connor said with a yawn. “Talk to your friend. I’m just tired. Probably be asleep soon.”

“Okay. Love you,” Evan said, kissing him again. He gathered up the tray with coffee and brought it back into the kitchen, where Sabrina did pack up a few of the weed macarons to take home. They sat around the table, finishing their coffees. 

“You okay?” Sabrina asked. 

“Yeah,” Evan said, nodding. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“Better now that he’s home and I don’t need to be in court every day.”

She seemed to take that answer better. “I know the appendix is like super commonly removed but yikes. Graham just kept talking about his cousin’s that burst, and it worried me.”

“He’s okay. We’re good.”

“Are you?” She pressed, her eyebrows up. 

She always fucking knew. 

The problem was that Evan had stopped being such a good liar lately. “I’m sort of freaked out, I guess? The whole thing scared the shit out of me.”

That was vague enough that it was true but didn’t explicitly mention what was really on his mind… Connor said in the other reality, the other timeline, that he had seen Sabrina at his grave and Connor had been blinking in and out of existence.

Evan had not been prepared to deal with that. To try to wrap his mind around Connor being only partially there, only sort of real. To imagine what killing himself had done to the people Evan loved. 

And Sabrina was sitting right in front of him, oblivious, just fixing him with a calculating look like she was trying to figure him out. 

How could he possibly begin to explain that he was sorry for something that he hadn’t managed to do in this universe, in this reality? How did he tell her he felt so guilty for ruining her engagement, so horrible for breaking her heart when the Sabrina he was looking at didn’t have those things happen? 

He wanted to apologize to her. The  _ other _ Sabrina. And all of the others he had hurt, however few they turned out to be. He wanted to apologize to them, to Mattie and Alex. To his mom… Fuck, even his dad and Tracy and Amelia and might as well throw in Natalie too even though she wouldn’t have been born by the time it happened there. He was so fucking sorry to have brought them all so much pain. 

“You sure you’re alright?”

Evan nodded wearily. “Now that he’s home and he’s healing? I’m gonna be fine.”

“Good,” Sabrina said with a smile. 

They caught up a little. Sabrina’s sisters were throwing her a bachelorette party at the end of July, and her older sister Samantha thought it was absolutely inappropriate to have any men there at all. Tabitha, meanwhile, had invited a bunch of Sabrina’s friends of all genders, and was campaigning to get Evan an invite. 

“I don’t want things to be weird -” He started. “I mean, just, I don’t want to make anybody uncomfortable…”

“You’re my best friend. Of course you’re fucking invited. If Graham doesn’t care that we used to date, then it’s nobody else’s business. Sam can go suck an egg with her outdated bullshit.”

Evan smiled at her. “Sam never did like me.”

“She was just jealous,” Sabrina said with an eyeroll. “She always thought since she married an Indian guy, he’d be dad’s favorite and he and Hassan just don’t have a lot in common. He’d rather talk zucchinis with you. Or talk about football with Graham and Lilah.”

“Lilah?”

“Tabby’s new girlfriend.”

“Awww, I didn’t know she was dating anybody.”   


“They were ‘just friends’ forever dude. Drove us all crazy.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that happens,” Evan said with a grin. 

“Not everyone can reach the levels of denial you and Connor can, dude.”

At that precise moment, Cynthia appeared in the kitchen, looking marginally less stoned. “Oh hello,” She said, smoothing a hand over her hair. “I didn’t know Sabrina was stopping by.”

“Hi Mrs. Murphy,” She said, getting up to hug her. “How are you holding up?”   


“I’m alright, thank you.” Cynthia smiled slightly. “Connor gave us a bit of a scare but he’s okay.”   


“I’m glad. Also I brought over some muffins I made.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Cynthia said. “You’ve always been sweet. I remember when Connor… wasn’t well in high school, you came by one day with that whole platter of cookies for us.”

“You did?” Evan said. He hadn’t known that. 

“Yeah,” Sabrina said, shrugging. “I bumped into Zoe that first day she came back to school and she… She was having a hard time. We had a chat in the girls’ bathroom, and I know that sometimes something sweet can help a bit.”

“It was very kind of you,” Cynthia said. “So is this.”

“Connor’s my friend,” Sabrina said, like it was that simple. Not that he was important to Evan or that Zoe was her friend. Just that Connor mattered to her. That meant a lot to him, to know she just cared. 

* * *

 

For the first time that day, Connor wakes up to someone intentionally shaking him awake, albeit it gently. He looks up to see Zoe sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him with a careful expression, like she’s trying to assess how he’s feeling just by looking at him. 

 

“Hey,” she says, smiling when she sees him opening his eyes. “Sorry, I just wanted to let you know that there’s Thai food. Do you want us to come and eat in here with you or do you want to head into the kitchen for a change of scenery?”

 

“Kitchen sounds good,” says Connor, nodding. He feels achy all over, as well as the dull pain in his stomach, but he figures getting out of bed for a while is probably good for him. 

 

He manages to get out of bed by himself and Zoe walks beside him as he heads out of the bedroom. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, and it’s still a little uncomfortable to be sitting like this but he’s glad he hasn’t spent the whole day in bed. 

 

Just, you know, most of the day. 

 

Evan comes out of the living room and smiles at him, then comes over and sits next to him. “Hey,” he says softly, kissing Connor quickly. “Sorry, I just had to make a quick call for work. Zoe offered to wake you up.”

 

“Where’s Mom?” Connor asks, and Zoe looks at Evan, a look of exasperation on her face. 

 

Evan grins. “So your mom is having a shower,” he says, “and says we should just go ahead and eat without her because she’s been snacking most of the day.” He pauses, then his grin gets wider. “On Andi’s weed macarons.”

 

Zoe just shakes her head. “I really shouldn’t be surprised,” she says, sighing a little. “But honestly - what the fuck? Most people just make brownies, but Andi just has to be super extra.”

 

Connor looks at her, and sees that she looks amused and exasperated, but not horrified. He looks back at Evan and smirks. “So you didn’t tell her.”

 

Evan’s eyes narrow. “Connor, don’t you dare.”

 

“What?” asks Zoe, looking between Connor and Evan, an expression of alarm on her face. “Connor, are you okay?”

 

“Oh, this has nothing to do with me,” Connor continues as Evan goes redder and redder. “I just thought you might want to know that Andi definitely wants to bang our mom.”

 

“There was no banging,” Evan says firmly, red as a tomato by this point. “I managed to stop them from just, like, going into the spare room and having at it.”

 

“Oh my goddddd,” Zoe groans, putting her head on the table. “That’s illegal. It is illegal for that to happen, it is illegal for you to tell me about it, oh my god, Connor, you’re such a little shit.”

 

“Honesty is an important part of us having a good relationship, Zoe,” Connor says, very much enjoying himself. “You’re a therapist, you should know this. I’m just trying to keep the channels of communication open.”

 

She sits up and glares at him. “Fuck you.”

 

Connor can’t help cracking up laughing, and it hurts more than he’ll let on but he doesn’t think he cares right now. The look on Zoe’s face is too good. “Love you too, Zo.”

 

Zoe looks at Evan, who just throws up his hands in mock surrender. “I promise I didn’t tell your mom you’ve slept with Andi,” he says hurriedly. 

 

“You slept with Andi? Was she any good?” comes a voice from behind them, as Cynthia walks into the kitchen with her hair in a towel in jean shorts and a t-shirt. 

 

“Mom!”

 

“I think she’s still high,” Connor comments. He gestures to the bag of Thai food on the table. “Shall we eat?”

 

Once they’ve all eaten their fill of Thai food, Cynthia announces that if Connor’s feeling okay, she might get an early night. She kisses him on the cheek, then Zoe and then Evan, and happily waves as she heads into the spare room. 

 

It takes maybe a full minute before Connor cracks up laughing again, and yeah, it still hurts, but it’s totally worth it. Zoe looks utterly mortified. 

 

“No one is ever letting Mom get high ever again,” she says firmly. 

 

“I wonder how well the macarons travel,” Connor says thoughtfully. “We could send her home with some for Heidi.”

 

“That’s definitely not legal,” Evan says, frowning. 

 

Connor shrugs. “Well, yeah, but I bet Mom would do it anyway.”

 

Evan looks like he’s trying to argue or be disapproving for a moment, but then he sighs. “Real talk? I think my mom would think it was the funniest thing ever. She would definitely be into some weed macarons.”

 

“Then we definitely need to do that.”

 

Connor smiles, then sighs a little. “Andi brings me edibles and I don’t even get any,” he says with an exaggerated pout. 

 

“Why not?” Zoe asks, looking surprised. “They’d probably help with the pain.”

 

“I guess I just figured I… shouldn’t?”

 

“I can text Alex to check if it would be okay,” Evan offers, then pulls out his phone. 

 

Zoe shrugs. “Research supports pot for pain relief, and weed macarons are probably better than you smoking anything right now.” 

 

Evan’s phone buzzes, and he looks at it for a moment, then nods. “Alex says don’t have too many because the sugar might upset your stomach but to go ahead.” His phone buzzes again. “She also wants me to save her some for her next day off.”

 

“Fair enough,” says Zoe with a smile. 

 

Neither Evan nor Zoe let Connor help clean up after dinner, but they do it quickly and it’s not long before they’re sitting back down again and Zoe’s going through the various Tupperware containers and other things that have arrived throughout the day, her eyes getting a little big. 

 

“There’s a fruit basket, oh my god,” she says with a giggle. 

 

“That’s from my coworkers, Charles and Asher. And Mariah sent ice cream,” Evan says. He looks at Connor with a smile. “In other news, your freezer is basically completely full now.”

 

“Are these Sabrina’s banana muffins?” Zoe says, eyes lighting up. “I don’t know how she does it but she makes the best banana muffins, oh my god.”

 

“People just keep showing up with food,” Connor says, still a little shocked by it all. “It’s really nice.”

 

Zoe’s face softens. “That is nice.”

 

Connor does indeed have one of Andi’s macarons, which are delicious. He doesn’t think he’s going to feel it that much because he’s got a pretty high tolerance for weed, but he’s proved wrong quickly when it hits him after about half an hour and he feels like he’s floating. 

 

He doesn’t hate it, but it’s been a while since he’s actually felt this out of it on just pot. He doesn’t really remember moving back into his bedroom and getting back into bed, but apparently he has, because he finds himself sitting in bed next to Evan, who’s talking to Zoe about something, stroking Edgar’s belly and marveling at how cute and soft he is. 

 

“Wow,” says Zoe after what feels like just a few seconds. “You’re… that hit you hard, dude.”

 

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

 

“How’s the stomach?” Evan asks. 

 

“Fine,” Connor says with a small shrug. It’s probably the first time in days he hasn’t been in at least a dull low level pain and he’s not really feeling anything right now, except for completely out of it. “It doesn’t hurt.”

 

“That’s good, then.”

 

It feels like it’s been no time at all when Zoe hugs him and tells him she’s going home. He looks at her intently for a moment and notices how tired she looks and feels bad for a minute, but she promises she’s okay and he gets her to come over for a hug four more times before she finally leaves because his sister is great and he likes hugging her. 

 

“You are so stoned,” Evan says with a soft smile. “But you’re not sore, right?”

 

“Nope,” says Connor, smiling at him. “I love you so much.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

“You’re just the best? I can’t believe you worked from home just so you could hang out with me while I’m recovering, you’re so awesome,” Connor continues, laying his head on Evan’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

 

“Of course I did,” Evan says, sounding a little amused. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

 

“I missed you,” Connor announces, feeling sad for a moment. 

 

Evan looks sad, too. He blinks a few times and frowns a little. “What do you mean?”

 

Connor tries to explain. “When I was in the other universe, I missed you? I wanted you to be there. I mean, I didn’t want you to be there, because it was bad, and I don’t want you to be anywhere bad, but… I missed you, and I wanted to be with you. Universes are weird, Evan. I don’t think I can control them.” He feels his eyes filling with tears. “I tried really hard to get back to you. I tried so hard. But I got stuck.”

 

Evan puts his arm around his waist and pulls him in gently. “You came back,” he says quietly. “You’re okay.”

 

Evan’s phone rings a little while after, and Evan answers it and talks quietly, and Connor leans his head back on the pillow, kind of tuning Evan’s words out. He didn’t like being in that other universe, that universe without Evan, but he is glad that he’s back in the right one. Back in the right place, with his Evan. Even though universes are confusing and weird and he can’t control it, he’s going to do everything he can to keep his Evan safe. 

 

He hears Evan says ‘Mom’ and realizes he’s talking to Heidi. 

 

It makes him think about the Heidi in that other universe, completely devastated, completely wrecked, so utterly heartbroken to have lost her son, her son who she loves so much, and Connor kind of wants to cry thinking about it, because Heidi Hansen is so damn nice and sweet and should never be that sad. 

 

“Can I talk to your mom?” Connor asks Evan, who looks at him, a little surprised. 

 

“You want to talk to my mom?”

 

“Yeah,” Connor says, nodding. “Just for a little while, okay?”

 

Evan looks a little amused, but explains to his mom what’s happening and hands Connor the phone. 

 

“Hi Heidi,” he says, trying to be gentle because he doesn’t want to hurt her. 

 

Heidi’s voice is soft. “Hey Connor. How are you feeling, sweetie?”

 

“I had a macaron,” he informs her, “so right now I’m not sore for the first time in ages, which is really good. How are you?”

 

“I’m good,” she says, a trace of a laugh in her voice. “Evan told me about the macarons, they sound good.”

 

“I said we should send some home with my mom,” Connor explains, “but he said it’s illegal. So here’s what we’re going to do - I’m going to give some to my mom in secret and we’re not going to tell Evan because he’s a lawyer. Okay?”

 

Evan, who is still sitting next to Connor in the bed, makes this cute snorting sound. 

 

“Okay,” Heidi replies, and she’s definitely laughing now. 

 

“Also,” Connor continues, because this is the important thing, “I wanted to let you know that I love Evan so much? He’s the best and he’s been so great at looking after me and I love him more than anything. And the universe can go fuck itself because I’m not letting it take him away from me, okay? I’m going to keep him safe, so you don’t have to worry - even though you’re going to worry because you’re a mom and moms worry, I know. You don’t have to… extra worry, because I’m going to keep him safe.”

 

“That’s great, honey,” says Heidi, and he can hear that she’s smiling. “You’ve got to make sure that you keep yourself safe as well, though, yeah? Just be careful and gentle with yourself while you’re recovering.”

 

“Okay,” Connor says, nodding. “Thank you for giving my mom fries and wine. You’re the best. I’m going to let you talk to Evan now.”

 

He gives the phone back to Evan and then lies back against the pillows, feeling like he’s just done something important, like he’s just accomplished something. He closes his eyes, and Edgar curls up by his shoulder, and he listens to Edgar purr for a long moment. 

 

“Connor?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

Connor opens his eyes to see Evan looking at him, his face soft and open. 

 

“I’ve got your regular meds here,” he says gently. “And some water. Do you want to take those and then you can get some more sleep?”

 

“Okay,” Connor agrees, taking the pills from Evan and the glass of water and taking his medication. When he’s done, Evan takes the glass and puts it on the bedside table, then sits next to Connor in the bed and kisses him on the cheek. 

 

“You look better than you did yesterday,” Evan says quietly, like he’s sizing him up. “The macaron really helped with the pain, huh.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “I’m really high, though.”

 

Evan grins. “I noticed.” His grin falls a little. “It’s better than you being in so much pain.”

 

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. He looks at Evan for a long moment, just looks at him, and Evan looks back. “This is my favorite universe.” 

 

Evan blinks a few times. “Mine too,” he replies, his voice so soft. 

 

“I don’t want to be in any other universe,” Connor continues. “So we’re going to stay in this one, okay?”

 

Evan smiles. “Okay.”

 

Connor closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. 

 

* * *

“So the universe can fuck itself?” Evan’s mom sounded kind of worried but also a little amused. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah I don’t know. He said some stuff when he was running a fever before his surgery… I think he might have had a nightmare, ” Evan said softly because he couldn’t explain to her that Connor was very serious and meant that very literally. “Something about ending up in another reality.”

“Poor thing,” Heidi said gently. 

“I know. He’s pretty pissed about it. He said something about punching a blackhole earlier, though I don’t know if he’d remember.”

“Adorable. Your boyfriend is really stoned,” Evan’s mom said to him, and he could hear how hard she was trying not to laugh about it. 

“I know,” Evan said affectionately. Connor dozed beside him, Edgar curled up against him. “He only had one macaron. I think Cynthia had like… five or six? Earlier she was telling Edgar he was beautiful while he licked his butt. She was soooo high, mom, it was hard to keep a straight face talking to her.”

“She did send me a bit of a rambly text thanking me for keeping her company the other night,” Heidi said, sounding a big amused. “And promising to bring some to me.”

“As a lawyer, I really cannot advise planning to transport drugs across state lines,” Evan said, laughing a little. 

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, baby.”  
“You sound like a bad boyfriend in an afterschool special trying to peer pressure me into doing pot.”

“ _ ‘Doing _ pot,’” She repeated, obviously amused. “Are people there also smoking drugs? Drinking an alcohol.”

“Shut up mom.”  
“I love you so much,” She said, and he could tell she was laughing quietly. “I can’t believe I raised you to be so responsible.” 

“Mom.”

“I just mean I was sort of a stoner when you were little.”

“I know mom.” Evan had vivid memories of his parents coming home after leaving 

him with a sitter, smelling sort of skunky and behaving strangely. As he grew older, those trips out of the house got less and less frequent for his mom, and his dad just stopped coming home after them. “You grew out of it.”

“Mostly,” She joked. “Now that I’m friends with Cynthia, all bets are off.”

“Oh my god,” Evan said, chuckling quietly. “Please don’t sleep with her, I don’t think my brain could handle it.”

“Not that many bets!” She said with a laugh. “I am still tragically heterosexual.”

“Thank god for that.”

His mom sighed. “I’m really glad things there are calmer now.”

“Me too,” Evan said, looking over to Connor, praying his dreams didn’t take him anywhere else, anywhere that Evan couldn’t follow. 

“Connor really loves you,” Heidi said, a smile in her voice. “A man who loves you when he’s that stoned is a keeper.”  
“I know,” Evan said softly. “I’m definitely keeping him.”

His mom reminded him to get some rest and take his meds.

“I will.”

“Take care of yourself. And Connor. I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too.”

Evan hung up and stayed in Connor’s room for a little while, happy to just be there beside Connor while he slept. Every once in a while, he’d let out this little sigh and shift a bit, before relaxing again. Evan stayed, liking that Connor looked untroubled in his sleep, liking that Edgar was there to keep an eye on him. 

Eventually, Evan realized he had just been sitting there watching Connor sleep. That was objectively sort of creepy, so he got up. Took his meds and brushed his teeth. He went and got a glass of water and Connor’s usual meds, shutting off lights on his way back to Connor’s bedroom. 

“Connor?”

“Hmm?” Connor slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times before his face broke into this soft smile that squeezed Evan’s heart really hard. He was just so fucking beautiful, so amazing, smiling at Evan like he mattered. 

Evan smiled and spoke to Connor softly. “I’ve got your regular meds here. And some water. Do you want to take those and then you can get some more sleep?”

Connor nodded sleepily. “Okay.” Evan gently handed him the pills and the water, and he took the glass back when Connor was finished drinking. It felt sort of nice and solid to do this little thing for Connor, to know it was a long walk to the bathroom and kitchen he had spared him. Evan climbed into bed beside his boyfriend, then leaned over to press a kiss to Connor’s cheek. He was warm to the touch, but not feverish. His cheeks had more color and his eyes didn’t look dull, vacant like they had when he was sick. Connor seemed tired, but not out of it or in pain. He was okay. 

And he was here. That was the most important thing.

“You look better than you did yesterday,” Evan said after a few moments. “The macaron really helped with the pain, huh.”

Connor got this molasses slow smile on his face. “Yeah.” He nodded to himself. “I’m really high, though.”

He really fucking was. It was sort of adorable. Evan smiled at him. “I noticed.” Evan felt his smile sort of wilt a bit, thinking that getting stoned was the only thing that had seemed to help Connor to not be in so much pain. He hated that a lot. “It’s better than you being in so much pain.”

Connor said, “Yeah.” Then he just looked at Evan. Evan felt sort of watched, sort of like he was being x-rayed… but he just looked back. He loved Connor so much that he’d submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known. He loved him. So he looked back. 

Then, as if he was deciding something, Connor said, “This is my favorite universe.” 

Evan hadn’t expected that. He blinked, surprised, a few times, trying to process, trying to put into words what that meant to him to hear… But words failed him. He had nothing to contribute. So he swallowed hard, and said gently, “Mine too.”

“I don’t want to be in any other universe,” Connor went on, his voice very matter-of-fact for someone so stoned. “So we’re going to stay in this one, okay?”

Evan smiled at him brightly. “Okay.”

Connor fell asleep pretty quickly after that, and Evan curled up beside him, Edgar purring softly between them… and he felt safe for the first time since this whole ordeal with Connor’s appendix began. Connor loved him. Evan loved Connor. They were going to stay here, together. As they should. As they deserved to. 

The way Evan saw it, the universe owed them one hell of a favor by now. And he intended to cash it in by staying right here, staying curled up in his boyfriend’s bed until Connor was well again. 

So he did.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Bleacher's "Goodmorning."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [World Spins Madly On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531157) by [chchchchcherrybomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb), [vinegar-and-glitter (vinegarandglitter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegar-and-glitter)




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